This Blog Is Going To The Beach

Two years ago, my in-laws planned a wonderful vacation for themselves, my wife and I (then dating), and their son and daughter-in-law. The Scandianvian cruise was going to last ten days and pass through countries I had never visited before. Plans were scuttled when my sister-in-law got pregnant.

Last year, my in-laws planned a wonderful vacation for themselves, my wife and I (now married!), and their son and daughter-in-law. The very same Scandinavian cruise was going to last ten days and pass through countries I have never visited before. My in-laws were the first to know of my wife's pregnancy, in equal parts happiness, joy, and "hope the deposit is refundable."

Who needs intercontinental travel when the beach is just three hours away? We're packing up our things and heading east for a few days of R & R with our in-laws. We'll be without internet for the duration (let alone that we'll also have 80% of this blog's readership under the same roof next week).

See ya Wednesday, tanned, rested, and ready.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I'm too young to really remember flying as the grand experience it once was. I'm old enough to remember full meals served, ashtrays built into seats, and movies shown on a single screen in the front of coach, but for most of my life, I fly by Travelocity, not travel agent.

I crossed into another era of air travel on Sunday, one that will linger for a while. I may be too young to remember flying as a grand experience, but I will try to remember when flying used to be an easy experience. Because for the foreseeable future, it's about to get tough.

For about four years, I had a job that required a certain amount of travel. At the time, it was great and even got to be routine: pack hastily the night before, arrange a cab, wake up, get to the airport, buy a magazine, fly, land, check-in, find the bar. I racked up premium status the natural way on one airline, and approached it on several more. Now, I shudder to think about the next time I have to fly.

Heightened security means heightened hassles for all of us, but none moreso than parents of young children. My Lovely Wife and I took off on Friday, when many families were embarking on their Spring Breaks. "Look around," I said as we waiting at the checkpoint. "Not a single parent looks happy to be here." It was true.

As little girls and boys hopped and twirled around their parents legs, their early rise tempered by thoughts of meeting Mickey and Minnie, the assorted mothers and fathers looked on, grimly anticipating the next few hours.

For parents of infants - who were once like me at my old job - flying now means saddling up with diaper bags, food, toys, clothes, and anything else that baby might need in the next few hours. And the hope of preparation is balanced with the fear that the baby might just up and decide to cry for the duration of the flight. Which is what I feared the infant in 21C might do on Sunday, but fortunately, that only lasted about 30 minutes.

Between us, my wife and I had one carry-on bag. It held our flight information, some reading material and two waters. I was upset when she wanted me to carry on the book she had just bought, rather than just carry it on herself. I might want to keep that in mind the next time I fly and it takes me 20 minutes to pass through the security checkpoint.

Florida - America's Wang

I'll be in Florida until Sunday night. I'm going to the beach, and you can't stop me.