It’s getting tougher all the time for smokers to travel. Even cruise ships and casinos, among the last refuges of the smoker, are getting more restrictive.
When my colleague Jim and I went to a journalism conference in Los Angeles, he thought it was all about the journalism and the conferencing. But I knew it was about the In-N-Out burgers. For what could be sweeter than a handmade burger on an expense account?
And what finer pleasure is there in travel than to eat inexpensive chain food fare that you can’t get at home?
Two of the most debilitating flaws for a travel are absent-mindedness and a poor sense of direction. I have both.
I’ve been thinking about all the fine Mother’s Days I’ve had with the kid. I value her for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is this: She has always been highly portable.
My travel clothesline suffered a fatal rupture in a Seville hotel room, stretched beyond all reason for the last time. I will replace it, after a decent interval, because doing laundry in hotel sinks is not just a chore. It is a very central tenet of my travel philosophy.