Leaving on a jet plane

Only this time, unlike the last, my departure will be in the dead of night -- 15 minutes past midnight, to be exact. Yep, that's right. The time has come for me to pack up my belongings, steal what leftover change I can find in the couch, gorge myself , and say "peace out" to the West Coast, my home, my 'hood, and my homies. For those savvy of the appropriate rituals, rest assured that the proper amount of liquor will be poured out to pay my respects.

Like the lives of many fallen urban soldiers, Summer '05 has come to an unceremonious and abrupt end. One second I was updating a website for 6 hours per day, vacationing in Seattle and Vegas, flyfishing for gargantuan steelhead, eating gourmet meals nightly, and enjoying the hell out of the summer, and the next I'm being sent back to casebooks, late nights in the library and large quantities of falafel and frozen dumplings. The shock to my system will be severe; the adjustment period interminable; and the complaints numerous. Still, a substantial part of me will be happy to be getting this proverbial show back on the road.

While the coastal transition marks the beginning of my second year of law school and a defining period of my existence (the first week back will determine whether I am a gainfully employed summer associate next year or once again faking a charitable nature as an intern for a non-profit organization), tomorrow evening also represents a far more momentous occassion -- my first "red-eye." Now, while this does mark my first true coast-to-coast overnight flight, I would argue that flights to France and London would also qualify under the category of "red-eye." I say this because any flight over 10 hours tends to make your eyes glaze over and become temporarily bloodshot (the presumed requirement for a flight to be considered "red-eye") even if you are only technically traveling during daylight hours. This is not to mention the effect that having your luggage -- and most of your articles of clothing for a three-week trip -- exploded by a bomb squad in a Paris airport can have on your appearance.

The lessons of this post, you ask? First, I'm a seasoned traveler as conclusively proven by the fact that I've flown multiple bona fide red-eye international flights before I flew a domestic "red-eye" flight. Second, those announcements in the airport about leaving your luggage unattended should be paid special attention and heeded well. Third and finally, the French do not fuck around when it comes to abandoned suitcases.

NYC or bust.