Heading To Porto

Traveling… it is a fine art… all you need to know is that there’s a starting point (the departure) and there’s an ending point (the return)… everything else in between is a giant flexing, unpredictable yarn-ball of waiting… herding lines… unexpected detours… especially during Covid. But this time, there is no ending point, no return, only the departure.

Day 1… A bizarre sensation hit me as I arrived at Newark… the feeling of… “EARLY.” We were a couple hours early, in fact. I think this is the first time this has happened… a real anomaly… a rip & tear in the time space continuum… I’m usually running for the gate with a personal VIP escort from security, getting hustled to the front of check-point lines, shuttled on a cart, dashing through corridors and jumping hurdles… like a Heisman trophy all-star… But this time was different. They did need to confiscate a wine tool my wife was trying to sneak on the plane, and my shaving bag needed to be gone through, because I had… LOTION! But, the flight was pleasant to Lisbon.

After the obligatory getting everything gathered for the connecting flight, we were told that the visa line we were in was fine for us… after 30 minutes, we were then told we needed to be in the other longer line, that took us another 45 minutes to get through. Once through, we had to go through another check baggage line, with the shoes off and everything.

After gathering our stuff, a flight attendent told us we need to run because our flight was getting ready to leave. We broke out in our Olympic dash, and with everything we had, we made it to the gate. Only to be rushed through, and put on a bus. A nice crowded bus during Covid, oh, by the way, it's 5 o'clock in the morning and no one has slept, including my 11-year old daughter. We make it to the plane, and make it to Porto where we gather our mountain of luggage, and proceed out the doors of the airport, into our new Life.

Home Sweet Home! No Return Trip...