traveling from one old lover to the next

Arriving back in New York today sort of felt like awkwardly getting back together with a lover I did not leave on good terms. Or even on bad terms. More like burn all your belongings and drop your clothes out of a seventh-floor window kind of terms.

But then I had dinner and dessert. And I must say, if there is one way this city never did wrong by me, it's pizza and cheesecake. Because, DAMN.

As I prepared to get on my first flight this morning in Memphis, taking off my shoes, separating my liquids and removing my laptop, it occurred to me what a sense of pride I have in what I consider to be my pro-traveler status. Obviously, I love flying. I love travel, whatever form it may take, but I adore flying. I love airports and carry-on packing and terminal maps and the careful science of nailing the 50-lb. weight limit of a checked domestic bag.

When the desk agent at the shuttle service at LaGuardia asked me if it was my first time in New York, I may have chuckled. Okay, I snorted. I'm a traveler. And I'm incredibly proud of that classification. I love that this is trip-number-I-Lost-Count to New York, and that I'm heading back to England in November, and that between now and then I'll make two trips to Kentucky, one to Missouri, one to Arkansas and one to Nashville. TRAVELGASM.

I can't help but feel a little bit like I'm getting back to my roots. This whole Just A Girl in the World thing started with heavy emphasis on the "in the world" part. Prepare yourself for the travelogues that are soon to come.

I'm taking tons of pictures this weekend, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of ridiculous yarns to spin from BlogHer and definitely from my weekend with the one, the only, my dearest dear Harry. We plan on painting the town fuschia, because red is just really not dramatic enough for the things that are likely to happen.

But you might be even more interested in the travels taking place next weekend. I'm calling it The Benjamin Button. Why? Because Mr. Second Chance and I are meeting in the middle.

This is real. And totally happening. But for now? New York and I have some reconciling to do.


cheers,
elizabeth