I have been pretty much a homebody since retirement six years ago. Sue me. I like to sleep in my own bed. That doesn't mean I'm averse to day trips or one-night overnight stays; I'm not ecstatic about them but I can cope.
I like to drive and if I can't drive, I like to take the train. A hundred years ago, or so, the US rail system was the envy of the world. Nowadays, not so much. As a matter of fact, it sucks. About the only thing I like about trains I can ride now is the one I can take from New Haven that lets me out at Yankee Stadium (our son showed me that and it's way cool). That I have to drive from my house in Norwich to New Haven is not nearly as much fun with my clothes on as I'd like.
I hate flying, or more specifically being a passenger in an aircraft. There's no place to go on a plane. There's no legroom or elbow room. The take-offs and landings frighten me to near hysteria and the rest of the time a flight is like a really boring bus ride at 35,000 feet but with even less to see because we're above the clouds.
The worst thing of all about flying is the whole getting cleared to board and checking in, and conversely retrieving your baggage. I hate every aspect of the process but cannot afford to fly in my own private jet (curse you, Universe, having me born handsome instead of rich. And delusional instead of sane).
I've never had lost luggage mainly because I never pack anything worth losing (looking at you, Adam) but lots of people have had that unfortunate experience and it turns out there's a cottage industry of purchasers who buy lost luggage. Why would I make this up?
And complete a happy ending, if not the one you thought of at first.
-bill kenny
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