Highway Blues

But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
--Visions of Johanna, Bob Dylan

This past weekend I went to my alma mater. The impetus of the visit was to attend a memorial service for a very kind, very genuinely wonderful person, so it wasn't a purely "fun" visit...but parts of it were very fun. I know such lovely people, truly. It was hard to leave this morning, and not just because it was 4:45 am! I've had an achy feeling all day, I think stemming mostly from the fact that I spent 3 days in constant company with some of my favorite people in the entire world, and now I am in...Indiana. And I have been up for too long (even though it is barely dinner time) and I have to read so much and I just want to go back to Geneva and sit by the lake.

I can't dwell on this stuff, because transitions are hard and gross and it will eventually all work out, blah blah blah. I know this. Doesn't make it any easier, though.

So, instead, I will talk about traveling. I fly so rarely (maybe every 4 years, normally, if that) that when I do fly, it is still an exciting adventure. I love people watching in airports. I like the bustle and the possibilities that seem to accompany it--much as I love trains, there isn't that sort of energy associated with them. My flights were all on time, and everything went smoothly, which I'm really glad about. Because truthfully, I don't really like flying, particularly the taking off business. I chew gum like a fiend to help with the ear-popping, but my efforts weren't good enough on Friday, as I developed a reaaaaally bad earache that radiated pain down my face for the duration of the flight, and which stopped soon after we landed, thankfully.

On my way to Rochester, I was seated by a nice-ish man who owned an RV dealership. He was a little too tanned and frat boy-ish for me to really relate to, but we had a good chat about hockey. And he was jazzed that I was going back to college--I think he translated this to going back to Animal House, because THEN I got to hear all about his frat pranks.

This morning I arrived at the Rochester airport to see a HUGE line for security. Turns out there was a "police incident" so they were backed up, but I made it to my flight with minutes to spare. Although I did have to endure this in the security line while we were waiting:
Businessman, after we'd been chatting for awhile: So, art history, huh? What are you planning to do with THAT?
Me, feeling slightly punchy: Oh my gosh, what a GREAT question. No one has EVER asked me that before! (and then I gave what passes for a disarming smile)
Businessman: My son got his degree in theater (note: which he pronounced thee-ay-ter. WHO DOES THAT.) And now he's working at Lowes. Ha!
Me, internally: Good thing I can't have something pointy on my carry-on, because I seriously want to stab you.
And then I was so agitated that I had a coughing fit (probably not related) and stuck the cough drop in my mouth with the paper still on it. Sigh.

Delightfully, the businessman in front of me got randomly profiled so they made him do the air test thing, while I just got to walk through the detector. He was having a conniption fit about it, too. I thought a call to his lawyer was imminent. And THEN I had to walk by them BOTH in business class while I shuffled back to my seat at the back, and they both waved and looked smug. Sigh, again.

It's ok to be back. We did Artemisia Gentileschi in my seminar, and I have a soft spot for her for many, many reasons, so that woke me up a bit (and the discussion was more nuanced than I was expecting, which was gratifying.) And now--time to make a baked potato, unpack, try to organize my life, and get some sleep.