As far as Louie is concerned, the suitcase is the first hint that something is very wrong. Duffel bags are for road trips, and road trips generally include the dog, so as soon as the squeaky toys start migrating into one of the side pouches, he can relax.
But suitcases, the autumn clothes strewn across the bed in ninety-five degree weather, the sudden lack of foodstuffs in the refrigerator -- these are all portents that travel season is about to begin. And dogs -- even dogs like Louie, who are inured to the vagaries of their wandering owners, and are on a lap-sitting basis with the pet resort personnel -- are not fond of travel season. They do not like being left behind, even if the "kennel" is a high-class doggy hotel, with a swimming pool, flat-screen TVs, and twin beds, suitable for a TLC reality show featuring pampered pets.
And the person, to be honest, is feeling a little burnt out on travel season herself. Yesterday Raissa and I indulged in a wistful and protracted conversation about grocery shopping. Perishables, you see, aren't really practical given the tight turnarounds in our schedules. Even laundry day is a much-anticipated and joyful event.
During travel season, it's the small perks that change the day: the discovery of a Whole Foods near my Lafayette hotel. Sleeping in until seven thirty one memorable morning. A page-turning, world-altering book, in the form of Conor Grennan's "Little Princes." Meeting up with my parents between school visits. Catching a classic Law & Order marathon on TV.
I leave for Oregon this weekend on my second-to-last trip of the season. I'm looking forward to the autumn leaves, the rain (yes, really), the lasagna (mmm, Mamma Mia), the mostly logical street layouts, and the people -- many of my favorite-ever interviews have been with Portland students. (Yes, Hannah, Jessica, Ileane, and Brian, I'm talking about you.) And then two weeks of residential bliss before zipping up my suitcase and boarding a plane once more. Holy luxury Batman. I can't wait.
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