On our way...

Months of Chuck's carefully calculated planning resulted in my family rising at 3 am on a Thursday to vanish momentarily from our lives of finals preparations, teaching lessons, service calls, and sandwich prep to  make a break for the border.  My father-in-law had been email bombarding me for months with helpful travel tips ("Don't talk to ANYBODY.") as we initiated the necessary steps enabling us to temporarily walk away from our mundane, white bread and orange juice lives to browse the exotically-overflowing and abundant buffet of Mexico. As usual, I was trapped next to a blabbermouth on the flight..."Excuse me, sir? I'm trying to read."  "Get over yourself, Amy," Brad snapped, "you can talk to me for at least five minutes.  Then you can resume ignoring me for the duration of the flight." Worried about his exaggerated diagnosis  of "deep-vein thrombosis" to explain the mild stiffness of my legs while traveling,  Brad then proceeded to badger me to engage in ridiculous exercises.  "Stretch out your leg," he demanded, not caring that I was perfectly content to remain contorted into my teeny-tiny little assigned airplane area until I would reach the most amazing travel destination EVER:  Newark! I painfully limped off the plane to a nirvana of food court fabulousness.  After hours of agonizing inner turmoil, I settled on a caprese sandwich.  A daring choice as I'm not what you would technically call a "sandwich girl" (paninis don't count) but I was feeling rather adventurous.  With reckless abandon, I took a bite and immediately realized that my life would be forever changed by this moment.  Fresh red ripe tomato buttressed by thick, creamy mozzarella, snuggled in a chewy Italian roll upon which a garlic-basil olive oil rain would gently fall.  What do you mean...it's time to board the next plane? I would NOT leave Newark! In lieu of calling security, Brad coaxed me on board by waving a warmed chocolate-chip croissant ahead of me until I was securely buckled into my seat.  I sighed, forehead pressed against my teeny-tiny, bacteria-ridden airplane window...watching my beloved city grow smaller.  Adios, Newark.  J'taime.