Monday was tough. Up at 5. By 6:20 aboard a B737 from Myrtle Beach vacation to Newark via Charlotte. Lucky to have an aisle seat next to a sleeper. No such blessing the next leg; center seat next to a smeller. Using age-old diaper-changing technique, breathed through mouth for a full hour and forty minutes, praying BO couldn’t be airborne and absorbed in skin or clothing. Lucky the gate was near the Newark airport monorail, but the line at Dollar Car Rental neutralized that advantage. When you’re in line, why do transactions take 10-15 minutes; then, when it’s your turn, you’re outta there in three minutes? Simple. You were the only customer who spoke English. Got the car, hit the gate, down the up-ramp, up the down-ramp, merged into a six-laner and reenacted the chase scene from Speed. Two toll booths and one illegal turn later, joined a meeting in progress somewhere in N.J. Sat down, started to say something, but the Hoagies arrived, and being situated at the end of the table, you fortunately were able to serve as director of luncheon refuse. Meeting resumed, with simultaneous comments from three people. Lucky you’re a speed listener. But your plastic pen suddenly leaked, forcing you to find a bathroom sink. Made it back to learn decisions couldn’t be reached which was just as well because you only had 50 minutes to make the hour’s drive for the flight back. Luckily, the freeway traffic was only bumper-to-bumper which left the emergency lane wide open. Last passenger on board US Despair 934. Made record time which extended the two-hour layover at Charlotte to nearly three, providing ample time to ingest a year’s allotment of fat over 65 obituaries in three newspapers. Arrived balmy MB International and 45 agonizing minutes later your ride showed. Seems the clock on the beach house stove was on the fritz. Time: 10:22 p.m. Early the following morning, the Atlantic was a lake. Glistening mullet plopped here and there on the gentle swells. Figured yesterday was 17-hour day …14 travel, 2 meeting, 1 eating and scrubbing ink stains. Floating lazily, wondered aloud … “Was it worth it?” Luckily, the mullet weren’t interested.