Road Trip: Co-pilot, Not Passive Passenger

By Carol Cronin (Where Books Meet Boats)

I was really, really looking forward to flying home from Miami last Sunday. For the past several years, I’ve driven home after the annual DonQ Snipe regatta… by myself. Even if the drive is trouble-free, there are several unavoidable challenges of doing that 1500 mile stretch of I-95 solo: finding a safe place to pull over and sleep for a few hours. Changing from shorts to jeans in time for the first chilly gas stop. Getting through DC before (or after) rush hour. Getting through New York before (or after) rush hour. Staying awake. Finding entertainment on the radio. Staying awake.

This year, I planned to skip all that by doing a three hour flyover instead. I’d made the ideal flight reservation: with a late departure on Sunday night, even a longer than usual day of sailing and packing boats would not make me stress about missing it. And thanks to a non-stop back to Providence, I’d be asleep in my own bed by 1:30AM, easy—about the same time I would usually be pulling into a South Carolina rest area for a few hours’ nap.

By Carol Cronin (Where Books Meet Boats)

I was really, really looking forward to flying home from Miami last Sunday. For the past several years, I’ve driven home after the annual DonQ Snipe regatta… by myself. Even if the drive is trouble-free, there are several unavoidable challenges of doing that 1500 mile stretch of I-95 solo: finding a safe place to pull over and sleep for a few hours. Changing from shorts to jeans in time for the first chilly gas stop. Getting through DC before (or after) rush hour. Getting through New York before (or after) rush hour. Staying awake. Finding entertainment on the radio. Staying awake.

This year, I planned to skip all that by doing a three hour flyover instead. I’d made the ideal flight reservation: with a late departure on Sunday night, even a longer than usual day of sailing and packing boats would not make me stress about missing it. And thanks to a non-stop back to Providence, I’d be asleep in my own bed by 1:30AM, easy—about the same time I would usually be pulling into a South Carolina rest area for a few hours’ nap.

Those perfect flights, of course, are sometimes cancelled. Which is exactly what happened Sunday morning, due to a snowstorm in Providence that was scheduled to peak around midnight. And thanks to spring break, airline promotions, and who knows what else, the next available flight didn’t leave until Tuesday midday.

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Read also: Driving (a car) and Steering (a Snipe)

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