You fly all day inside a fuselage that looks like the inside of a lobster carcass. Hour one: slow. Hour two: even slower. Hour three: are we there yet? Hour four: not yet. Hour five: and the clouds give way and the tarmac rises to meet you and at long last you are sq-u-ee-e-e-ezed on out of the plane, slowly though, as the other passengers gather up their bags and belongings, like so much cake batter inside a pastry cone.
Then you hobble to baggage claim, find what’s yours, board a bus to the rental car center, get the vehicle and drive for another forever as the children get restless and the baby gets hives but at last AT LAST! the following morning you wake in this new place and its peace fills you so full you forget all but the beauty of this moment.