It’s getting close, that beloved and begrudged holiday oft known as V-Day. Hint, hint, hint. (And feel free to forward this little bloglet to your loved ones and crushes.) But no matter what you’ve got going this Valentine’s Day, there’s simply no excuse to come up empty handed.
Today, the fate of travel weather forecasts for the next six weeks rests upon the shoulders of a super-sized squirrel who subsists on dog food and ice cream. He also happens to be scared of his own shadow. But whether or not the much-loved groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, predicts more winter or the start of spring, the crowd that comes to learn his prognostication grows by the year.
*Photo courtesy of Alan Freed/PunxsutawneyPhil.com
The other night a few of us were at a bon voyage dinner for a buddy who was taking off for three months to study ice cells in Patagonia. This time last year, I went to Buenos Aires, but I couldn’t take the extra time to fly down for glacier viewing at the tip, and I’ve regretted it ever since. Back at the restaurant, we were trying to feed our cravings for adventure with summer rolls and clay pot salmon, but it wasn’t working, so we started to plan our own trip: Kilimanjaro in 2008!
Without going into detail, let’s just say I see where Danny DeVito was going with his Lincoln bedroom commentary on “The View” a few weeks ago–though I would have preferred to hear it from his buddy George Clooney. There is such a thing a “vacation sex.”*
DeVito’s rant aside, I get what he meant. Being away from home, from work, and from the distractions of our everyday responsibilities makes, ahem…you know, totally different than at home. Indeed, better…and more frequent.
I am loving the bring-your-own-meal (BYOM) trend on domestic flights. If there’s been one improvement to air travel these days, it’s actually the lack of in-flight meals–no more stinking airplane cabins and questionable food lingering on my tray table.
But now snack boxes are proliferating, and not only are they an example of gross over-packaging, but they are also known to be laden with empty calories and artery-clogging fat. I’m telling you now that I don’t ever want to appear on The Biggest Loser, which means you won’t find me “snacking” on chips and cookies at 30,000 feet.