It’s starting to feel routine. The packing, the getting ready to go, the last-minute scramble to clear enough of my to-do list at the office to allow me to actually depart… well, we’ll see about that. There are still a few hours to go. Will I be able to escape the office in time to make it to the airport? Anyone care to place a bet?
This trip’s preparations were even more rushed than usual. The Passover seders, combined with some urgent work stuff and some unforeseen personal emergencies, meant I didn’t really have time to start packing or getting organized until last night. Luckily, I seem to have it down to a science by now. Besides, I don’t need much. My passport, a toothbrush, a change of clothes, and a spirit of adventure.
One amusing moment came when I phoned up the bank to make my routine notification of my intent to travel. (It helps ensure that my cards will work overseas.) Here’s a recap of the actual conversation I had with the customer service agent:
Her: And where are you going?
Me: Morocco.
Her: Where is Morocco? Is that in Spain?
Me (not sure if I heard correctly): No, Morocco. As in, the country.
Her: Oh, Morocco’s a country?
Me: Yep. Last I checked.
In her defence, maybe she just doesn’t have a map. I wonder if she knows where “the Iraq” is?
Anyway, I’m out of here in a couple of hours, off to the airport. Catch ya on the other side of the Atlantic!