Sunday, 10 AM: I’m at San Diego Airport waiting for my flight to San Francisco. I’ll be attending the American Psychiatric Association’s annual meeting as a journalist. I’ve been attending each year since 2002.
Consider this “Tooter” and these are my “toots.”
Yesterday, Saturday afternoon: I should have had everything organized for my trip by now, but I’m still tied down with my work. Pre-travel days are always a bummer, It’s as if my system shuts down in anticipation of the energy I need to conserve for the road.
Saturday evening, just before midnight: I’m finally organized. But I know at least one thing had to have gone wrong. What will it be this time? No underwear? I get to San Fran only to find the conference is in Philly?
A few minutes later: I plop onto the mattress, bone tired, but my mind is racing. Oh, crap. This always happens.
Sunday, 7 AM: I’m ready to head out the door. I grab my cell phone, which has been charging all night. I turn it on. It won’t come on. I’m holding a paperweight with buttons. I’m about to hit the road with no phone. No time to worry about that. Gotta plane to catch ...
Sunday, May 17, 2009
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