Home Sweet Jersey.
For someone who hasnâ€™t used the word â€œhomeâ€ lightly, if at all, in four years, it was really quite nice to â€œgo homeâ€ last night. It was so nice to land at splendid Newark Liberty International Airport (I’m not being sarcastic, I really do love that place) on my second-favorite airline, on a direct flight instead of the hellish layover in Atlanta, three whole hours earlier than planned. I even think I saw The Boyâ€™s street as I was landing.
New Orleans was lovely, and I did get to do a lot outside of work. I did a bunch of Christmas shopping, and I had a fantastic dinner, and I walked along Bourbon Street, and I took a touristy bus tour, and I saw a play. And I enjoyed having lots more channels than I pay for, and watched lots of HBO and TLC. Very nice altogether.
It also appears that I come across younger than I am. Which I must admit I like. I don’t know how well it serves me at work, but hey, maybe it makes me look like a prodigy. And I’ll hang on to that for as long as I can. I fear age like Jonathan Larson did in “tick… tick… Boom!.”
30/90 – “You’re no longer the ingenue.”
Iâ€™m learning a lot about traveling alone, also. Itâ€™s very interesting and itâ€™s kind of nice to do whatever you want whenever you want and itâ€™s good to do things youâ€™re scared of so you donâ€™t grow up to be (am I grown up yet? I donâ€™t think I am) a scaredycat. And strangers are really nice to you when youâ€™re alone, especially if youâ€™re a tourist and, apparently, especially if youâ€™re in the South.
But there are an awful lot of times where you really want â€“ as the Biscuitnoted â€“ to turn around and go, â€œHey, look at that!â€ except thereâ€™s nobody there to look at it with you. It sort of makes the looking a little less fun.
But next time anybody wants to go on a trip, my goodness, New Orleans looks like a place to have some fun. And I really did have some, even alone.