Scenes From My Life

More than twenty four hours had passed since I had arrived in Washington, D.C. My luggage was still nowhere to be found. Despite the promises of the airline’s agents, my missing suitcase had not yet been delivered. With no other alternative, I had spent the day touring Washington in the clothes that I had worn a day earlier. Clothes that I was still wearing. A full day had passed. My friend and I had returned to her house from dinner to find that my belongings remained missing. I promptly began calling the airline, trying to track down my baggage. The agent assured me that my luggage had been located and dropped off at my friend’s home by a delivery service the previous evening. I assured her that it had not been delivered. After more than fifteen minutes of her continued assurances, I was transferred to the delivery service. As with the airline, the delivery service assured me that my luggage had been dropped off, going so far as to give me a specific time at which i

“Excuse me,” I said, gaining the attention of the hotel’s front desk clerk. “Can you suggest a place for us to grab a bite to eat?” The clerk gave me a puzzled look and said “At this late hour?” I looked at my watch. It was not even 8:30p.m. How could 8:30 be considered late? I glanced at my traveling companion, who seemed just as puzzled as I by this comment. “Yes,” I finally responded. “Just something quick. Not too expensive.” “Well . . .” the clerk said, obviously trying to think of a way to answer my seemingly simple question. “The café down the street might still be open. But, I cannot say for sure.” This was my introduction to Sedona, Arizona. In 2004, I had traveled to the Phoenix suburb of Scottsdale for a friend’s wedding. As it was my first time in Arizona, I decided to stay and visit a few other cities. Joining me was another east coast-based friend, who was also in Scottsdale for the wedding. We were driving to the southern rim of the Grand Canyon, when we

If you want to be a writer, then write. I have heard this adage for many years. Over the years, I have done a lot of writing. Though little - if any - of it has ever been finished . . . much less published. I decided to start this blog as both a challenge to myself and a means of following that adage. In short, it is a reason to write. Once I decided to start this blog, the issue became finding a topic. My daily life? My job? I finally settled upon writing about something I love . . . travel. Over the years, I have done a fair amount of travel. My travels have provided a number of stories. Why not write about some of my experiences? With that, I present a few “scenes from my life” . . .