Between Clever Lines

I am in transit again, this time in a car, listening to nerd rock and watching rain splatter against the sun roof. I'm on my way to Long Island for a few days to stay with my grandparents. My aunt and uncle are taking shifts driving, and this car is filled with so much caffeine. Sort of necessary when I didn't finally crash onto my bed until around 3:30 this morning. As much as I love the feeling of airports and being on the train, I also love the anticipation the night before. Unfortunately, that usually adds to my already irritating habit of not sleeping very much. I know I'll be up late the night before every trip, so I usually save all of my packing until the night before. I then proceed to stay up, throwing things into a suitcase and chatting on skype. It's a system that works for me; I don't agonize about packing for weeks, and I don't have trouble sleeping in the car. I love road trips. I like the possibility of everywhere we stop. I like the junk foo...

I love traveling, but not in the way most people do. So many people seem to hate the long drive/train ride/flight in between them and wherever they're going. They don't like waiting, which is a common and completely reasonable sentiment. But it isn't mine. Sure, I love being places that aren't home. New York City (which I'm on a train to right now - yay for mobile posting) is one of my favourite places in the whole world. I feel comfortable in Cancún and Xcarat.  Almost more than that, though, I love the feeling of being in airports. I love that rush when you're en route to your destination, when you don't know yet that you've forgotten your toothbrush and your dad is going to get sun poisoning because he forgot his sunscreen AGAIN. It's a forced rest, the calm before the storm. I love train rides. I get all of my reading done, write, listen to music, think, and sometimes just stare out the window at my whole state flashing by. I'm not sur...