In ten days, I leave for two weeks in Italy and Prague.
I’ve been planning this trip for over a year. In December, I purchased my flight and booked our accommodations. Even before then, all my spending decisions (major and minor) have been with this trip in mind. Besides my study-abroad semester for four months, I’ve never gone anywhere for a duration of two weeks.
Now I’m at the under-two-weeks-till-departure mark, and it’s all getting very real.
At this moment, there’s nothing I am looking forward to more than getting on that plane (the second plane that will actually take me to Rome, rather than the first one that will take me to Charlotte, North Carolina). Yes, I believe every part of the trip I’ve so carefully planned will be excellent, or at least has the potential to be excellent. I hope no disasters will befall, but you never know.
So for now, the most intense moment of joy will be boarding that plane to Rome (and hoping I won’t be joined by squalling infants or misbehaving children). I actually enjoy plane flights — especially those taking me to much-anticipated destinations, of course. I always have something to read, listen to, write on. I won’t be bringing my laptop; my phone will be only my access to my usual internet corners (though my companion, whom I am meeting in Rome, will have a tablet I can borrow as needed). I will be resorting to longhand once again to capture moments of the trip.
On that flight, despite various annoyances such as dry and recycled cabin air, I will carry all the joy of a long-anticipated trip that has finally arrived, on my way to one of my favorite countries and another place I have long wanted to see. Nothing will have gone wrong yet. The potential for a perfect trip will be whole.