Never fly in the summer. Zoo is the wrong term to describe San Diego Airport. Animals are treated far more humanely. They get knocked out at home and wake up at their destination. I demand to be treated like an animal.
It took me 90 minutes to clear check-in, security, and the news shop. I spot one of those horse collar travel pillows. I have a whole closet full of them. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my closet with me. Another one to my collection.
I was up at five this morning. Not by choice - my brain won’t let me sleep on travel days. Then they route me to Chicago because they can before dumping me off in Pittsburgh late at night and three hours out of my circadian rhythms.
Fortunately, I was wise enough to schedule a rebound day for tomorrow.
I’m plopped into a seat at my boarding gate. Someone with a high-decibel baby plops into the seat right behind me. I am very tolerant - compared to a lot of adults I know, the baby is a model of exemplary behavior.
I whip out my emergency iPod and jam in the earphones. Kiri Te Kanawa is singing Richard Strauss. Sanctuary, asylum. Ahhh!
I will be attending the Eighth International Conference on Bipolar Disorder, hosted by the University of Pittsburgh and Western Psychiatric Institute. Three days of the world’s top bipolar experts, along with leading brain scientists and geneticists. But right now I’m looking across the aisle, where a lady has open Food Network Magazine.
“Best Burgers,” reads the cover. The shot of the cover burger poses more of a temptation than the Victoria’s Secret Catalogue.
It’s always good to be passionate about something in life.
From Pittsburgh, it’s a family visit to CT. I did have a trip scheduled to visit a rehabilitation farm in the Berkshires, but that fell through. So straight home from there. Correction: The airlines are not familiar with the concept of straight.
This is John McManamy, on the road, tooting to Pittsburgh. Stay tuned for more road blogs ...