business travel, u r doing it wrong

I'll admit that I am out of practice with the business travel. Before I had kids, I had mad packing skills that enabled me to load a suitcase with precisely everything I needed, including a good book for the flight, in less than 30 minutes. Maybe it's the interruptions. Maybe it's the cat puking on the floor. Maybe it's just because all of my stuff is now scattered across a larger footprint. But this time around packing was a chore rivaled only by sorting whites and darks in my laundry room. 

Being the "expert" traveler that I am, I dutifully searched weather.com to determine what would be the best array of attire. And, having remembered the days back when I had time to read Glamour or any other magazine, now that I come to think about it, I pulled out of my memory that clever girls traveled with color-coordinated gear so that one skirt, a scarf, a blouse and two pairs of shoes could get her through an entire week PLUS a formal dinner. Which is why I found myself in Payless today, seeking a flirty pair of flats to replace the ones that Fred the Cat had gnawed on so that I could travel with my three-item ensemble. Why spend $80 on nice skimmers when $15 wouldn't make me nearly half as heartbroken should Fred set his fangs upon a new pair, I thought. And the whole gig would have gone off without a hitch had not another woman in what appeared to be a similar predicament want the exact same pair of shoes that I had under my arm. Now, I'm all for helping out a friend in need, but that extended no further than helping this poor soul searching the racks, ask the counter person to run the style code and then, taking a "I'm so sorry" tone, rushing off with my shoes. Because clever girls need their flirty shoes, especially when they have a flight to catch in 1 1/2 hours.

Had I known that these same "comfortable" flats would have me walking like I had trekked the Sierra Madre barefoot later that same day, I might have just handed them off, taken my sneakers and told everyone in Seattle that the sneakers + skirt look is all the rage in the OC. Instead, rather than striding with confidence through the SEATAC airport, I slogged along wincing with each step, wishing I had some arch supports handy. This would also explain the side-eye I inadvertently slung at the one-legged lady who was exiting the bathroom through the entrance. I was on a roll, and on a mission, and my expectations were not to encounter anyone coming out through the in. I'll berate myself later for thinking any negative thoughts about anyone who clearly is overcoming greater odds than falling arches. 

In fact, come to think about it, I found it rather impressive that she also was talking on her cell. Now there's a feat, pun intended, I could not have pulled off.