I haven’t been on an airplane since before 9/11. In fact, I think the last commercial plane I was on was back in 1999 or whenever it was when I last worked for Megacorp. I’m off on a multi-day business trip in Boston, MA. I haven’t been back since 1986 when I shook the hand of Paul E. Gray, ’54 and had him hand me a diploma. I’m spending an extra day there and the thunderclouds will be there to greet me. I’ll be there in my best West Coast finery, a collared shirt and jeans, and looking the part of the tourist that I am. I only have a few things on my list besides work: flip off my alma mater and have someone take a picture of the event, eating at Legal Seafood or No Name or Durgin Park, possibly flipping off Harvard but that seems crass. And, of course, a walk down some semi-familiar streets.

In any case, I’m not the most organized business traveler. My worries usually fall away when the plane leaves the ground. After that I know it’s up to someone else until I arrive at my hotel, and everything I forgot has to depend on my credit card limit.

Wish me luck or something.