[Bus, Bus, Plane!]

Okay, so it wasn’t nearly as much fun as playing “Duck, Duck, Goose!” as a kid. For one, it meant getting up much earlier than I wanted to. Secondly, it meant that I had to go back to work the next day when my family was instead heading to New York City for two whole days. Without me. Boo-hoo, being a responsible adult is overrated.

The day began early in the morning, before the sun was even awake. My poor dad got conscripted into driving me to New Haven (45 minutes away) so I could catch a bus — to catch another bus — to get on a plane — that would transfer me to another plane — to land in Omaha — where I would stay the night before driving another two hours home in the morning. But luckily for him, he only had to drive to New Haven and back.

The bus from New Haven to Hartford gradually filled up with regulars, chatting away and sharing stories of the weekend and last night. It was a pleasant ride, if lacking in coffee. (I’m noticing a growing dependency on coffee when I travel. I don’t drink it when I’m at home, just when I’m traveling. Odd.)

The bus from Hartford to the airport involved an hour-long wait, during which I incessantly checked my phone to make sure I was in the right spot. It wouldn’t do to miss the bus in a strange city, and thus potentially miss my flight. So I paced, waited, and checked my phone every five minutes. Typical.

Once I got to the airport, it was nearly smooth sailing. I managed to trip over my own shoes in the security line and bang my hip against that metal table, but other than that, it wasn’t bad. I found my gate pretty easily (they have rocking chairs looking over the tarmac, which I thought was a nice touch), and finally obtained my coffee.

I don’t mind flying, and I actually have no problems with the leg room (it helps that I’m pretty average, height-wise). But it was still a relief to get off the plane in Detroit and sit down for a bite to eat during my layover.


Up in the air again, and this time I actually looked out the window when we pulled closer to Omaha. The Plains are really pretty from above, like a patchwork quilt with rivers and clouds as the stitched design on top.

Landing in Omaha felt amazing. What wasn’t so amazing was the instant rush of heat the minute you walked outside. It felt like I had stepped into a sauna. Blergh. And, of course, my car had been baking in that heat for five days. Gah.

Heat. Humidity. Home. There’s really nowhere like Nebraska.


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