I Meet Dead People Every Day
How to avoid becoming one yourself
Air Canada flight 2019 touched down gently along the runway in Dublin, Ireland. We taxied to the gate and passengers jostled about, foraging and releasing stuffed overhead compartments.
Through the plane’s window, I spied the distant green hills of Ireland. Home to my long-deceased maternal grandparents. Finally, after a lifetime of excuses, I made it to Ireland.
I was traveling with my wife, 18-year-old son, brother-in-law, his wife, and their two young daughters. All of us are light packers, with only one carry-on bag and a small satchel apiece. Well, except for my brother-in-law’s guitar, in its bulky protective case. He’s part Irish and feels naked without his guitar close by.
Filing out of the airport in search of a Dublin taxi, we looked like ducks lined up in a row. Following one after another, with our rolling luggage cases in tow.
Travel, the necessary evil
A lot of people wax poetic about the wonders and joys of travel. Much of what they say is true. You’ll experience new things, places and cultures.
