I type these words from the sunny city of Montevideo in Uruguay, relieved to have escaped the icy grip of another Indiana winter. I had intended to compose a long, thoughtful post today, but three things prevent me from doing so.
First: My access to the Internet is limited by a modem, which is in high demand among the other members of my family.
Second: My computer, Polyphemus, refuses to connect to the Internet at all. Stubborn machine.
Third: My typewriter monkeys, which I had shipped to Montevideo in a largish cardboard box, were the victims of a luggage mix-up. The airport administrators informed me earlier today that my monkeys are currently located in an airport somewhere in southern Vietnam. The airline workers are doing their best to return my monkeys as quickly as possible, but for now I have no choice but to update the blog myself. It’s actually kind of a tedious process. I hope my monkeys get back soon.
Anyway, I spent the last few days packing up my remaining possessions and transporting them (and myself) from Mishawaka to Montevideo, a trifling journey of about five and a half thousand miles.
I think I must be getting old and cynical. I used to love traveling, whether road trips or international flights. Gas stations and airports used to fill me with excitement. Now they fill me with a vague sense of dread. I’ve spent too many hours trying to sleep on airplanes to regard them with anything but dislike. It may be possible to get a good night’s sleep in an airline seat, but I have yet to do it.
I suppose I shouldn’t grumble. I have much for which to be thankful. Not only did I reach the right destination at the right time, but I arrived with all my luggage (sans typewriter monkeys). At no point did I miss a flight, leave behind a piece of luggage or repeat any of the other mistakes I’ve made on previous travels.
Well, I guess I should wait for my monkeys to arrive. I hope they’re having a good time in Vietnam.