Vegas, baby!

November 26, 2009

We’re off to Vegas tomorrow for Brother’s wedding. I don’t like to travel during the Thanksgiving break, but I’ll make an exception. Plus, we’re flying, not driving. I’m not going to fact-check this CBS news story because I want it to be true:

“Holiday Travel Myths Exposed

“In reality, the day before Thanksgiving is not the busiest day of the year,” said Roger Dow of the U.S. Travel Association.

In fact, according to official government data, when it comes to the number of airline flights, today doesn’t even rank among the top 25 busiest days.

Back in 2006, it came in 36th. In 2007, it was 55th. And last year, as the economy took a turn for the worst, there were 220 days with more flights than the day before Thanksgiving.

“It’s a myth,” Dow said. “lt’s one of those things that people expect the airports to be crazy – there’s a lot of people traveling, but it’s not the worst day of the year.”

[read the rest of the story]

We’re traveling on the 221st most busy travel day of the year. No problem. Nothing to worry about.


If I don’t need to worry about crowds, I can move on to a new neuroses. I’ve now started to worry about our luggage getting lost.

I usually check my suitcase and (knock on wood) I’ve never lost a suitcase. Also, I’m lazy. Southwest doesn’t charge extra for checked luggage so I refuse to be one of Those People who insist on hauling a small suitcase onto the plane while trying to pretend they don’t also have a laptop case, a purse, a diaper bag, a small dog in a carrier, and a large bag of cheese.

Since we’re going to a wedding and I need these clothes and running out to shop if they lose our luggage would suck, I’ve talked myself right into the paranoid belief that this will be the time they lose our luggage.


I’m not hauling my laptop so I should just go pack the dress for the wedding into a small carryon. And a spare pair of shoes. And some makeup. And extra underwear. And, of course, the things I usually cram into my carryon with my laptop: my toothbrush and my backup shoes (not to be confused with the extra shoes for the wedding) and my cardigan and my book and my knitting.

My god, I sound like Steve Martin in The Jerk.

I don’t need any of this. I don’t need this stuff, and I don’t need you. I don’t need anything except this [ashtray] And that’s it and that’s the only thing I need, is this. I don’t need this or this. Just this ashtray. And this paddle game, the ashtray and the paddle game and that’s all I need. And this remote control. The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that’s all I need. And these matches. The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball. And this lamp. The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control and the lamp and that’s all I need. And that’s all I need too. I don’t need one other thing, not one – I need this. The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches, for sure. And this. And that’s all I need. The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, this magazine and the chair.

You ever have one of those disturbing moments wherein you realize that your internal monologue about how you’re going to solve a potential problem is actually tinged with hysteria? That moment when you realize that, even in the safety and comfort of your own brain, your thoughts sound highly pitched and a bit shaky?

No? Really? Really?

You’re lying but I don’t have time to argue with you, I need to go repack my suitcase and this carry-on.

Valium. Musn’t forget to pack the valium. Just in case I end up sitting next to the woman with the laptop case, purse, diaper bag, small dog in a carrier, and the large bag of cheese again.

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