Firstly, I love flying. I have no idea why. You’re crammed in a box with a bunch of other people (anyone who knows me knows that other people are not my favorite), you run around with heavy bags in a building that has no discernible logic to its layout, and you wait (lots and lots of waiting). But I still think it’s magical.
A little boy I sat next to made a statement that I think really gets to the crux of why I like flying so much. He said the plane would be going “5,000 miles high and 5,000 miles fast. And that’s way better.” Way better than what? Everything.
My first stop was New Jersey near Atlantic City to visit a friend of mine from college. Leaving the South is always interesting. You forget what the rest of the world is like. Several houses on her block had solar panels, Atlantic City has giant wind generators, there’s recycling everywhere, Wawa rules, Jersey Girls don’t pump their own gas (no really, it’s illegal, you have to let the attendants do it), and you’re not supposed to make eye contact and talk to strangers (I forgot and stopped on a walking trail to ask a lady what kind of dog she had. I swear she thought I was going to mug her. I don’t know what she thought I could have done to her. I’m 5 foot and a heavy wind will blow me over, no really, it’s happened).
|The park where I almost mugged that lady.|
Traveling is weird. You have a bag that has only “necessities” and that’s it. You don’t have your stuff. You don't have your pillow or your slippers or your favorite mug or your drawing pad or your shelf of books. You try to guess what you're going to need, but you couldn’t have possibly known that you were going to desperately need to clip your nails. Biggest of all is you can’t always follow your routine. My routine is very important to me. Without I feel like the world is just chaos, and I can’t be bothered to get out of bed. What’s the point in being awake if I can’t get up and have my Diet Coke and fried egg, check facebook, and then hide in my studio for 8 hours? Structure’s important for introverts and for people that have anxiety (both of which I am) and without my crutches (diet coke and 8 hours of alone time) life’s hard for me. I get tired, cranky, and my brain doesn’t work right. Luckily I stayed with the most amazing people who understand how important my Coke/Egg/Quiet Time process is, and they enabled.
|The boardwalk at Ocean City|
Oh, and there were also puppies! Do these guys look familiar?
|Meet Rory and Bo, the cockaliers who modeled for me for the Little Dog who Laughed!|
|"Hey Diddle Diddle", from Mothership Goose|
On Travel Part 2!