Travel is becoming routine to me. Now that I’m doing multiple cons, I fly every two or three months. I used to only fly a couple times a year, if that – down to New Orleans around my birthday and Christmas. But here I am in early November, on the train down to the airport, going off to a con in Los Angeles. With a bag that was already halfway packed from the last two cons, and was packed last night with extreme practices casualness.
I’ve become someone who travels a lot, and that feels strange. Feels like I’m someone else now.
It’s not a bad change. It’s not a good change, either. It’s just… a change.
I dunno. Airport station. Time for whoever I am nowadays to get up and roll her bag into the airport.