I learned something new today: you cannot get anywhere easily from Raleigh-Durham Airport.

Yes, I am on the road… again. And today proves what I always suspected: I really like to travel. Even on days such as this when flights are delayed, connections look iffy, and a very special someone waits at the other end. And this is a good thing, because, although I pretend to be an author, I’m really a full-time traveling salesman and self-promoter.

I do write, though…in airports, on planes, in the gym, over a glass of wine…or several, depending. I know which hotels have the best WiFi. And which chains can generally be trusted to accept mail and hold it for my arrival. TSA agents are starting to greet me by name. I know exactly how many days I can function on three ounces of shampoo and a small tube of toothpaste. I chart my progress toward the next status level with the airlines—the one where I actually will be treated like a human, in theory. The best gift ever is to be told I will not be charged for a checked bag. Then I can use as much shampoo as I want. Such luxury!


The other day, I’m not sure where I was (all my stops tend to run together after weeks on the road) but someone asked me where I lived.
I couldn’t remember.
And there is good reason for that—I don’t really live anywhere.
But, before you think otherwise, I brought it on myself.
It happened rather innocently. There I was, sipping wine, minding my own business, secure in my little condo on a golf course in Las Vegas, when there was a knock at the door. A young couple I’d seen walking on the golf course from time to time stood on my stoop. The long and short of it was, they asked me if I had ever thought of renting out my condo—they’d seen it from the golf course and had fallen in love. I thought for a minute, then shrugged…and rented it to them.
After packing my meager belongings, I was officially homeless.
And the adventure began.
So, I’ve travelled between Dallas, checking on my parents, Colorado, where my heart and soul live, and Vegas, where my stories germinate…oh, and my son and most perfect daughter-in-law live. At first the whole thing was really grand and fun, but unnerving. I had no tether, no place to call my own. But then, I grew to love the freedom. I guess there are folks who are homebodies. And others who itch for adventure. I’m clearly one who can’t resist the call of the open road. So many wonderful places to see and people to meet.
The only downside so far appears to be that, when I’m called on to dress up for some occasion, I always have the dress or the shoes, but never both.
I can live with that.
So which are you: adventurer or homebody?