Well, I did it. I flew 927 miles from home, only really freaked out once, had a truly lovely dinner with Neil (more details later, or see his journal), and am now at O'Hare waiting to please God fly home. Before coming to the airport today, I had time to conduct an important taste test: half an Italian beef sandwich each at Mr. Beef and Portillo's. I'm sorry, Chicagoans; I know you think it's fast food, but Portillo's is about a million times better.

HOME. I have now traveled outside Louisiana/Mississippi and returned successfully with no deaths and only two panic attacks. On the second leg of my return flight, despite my having requested all aisle seats, I got a middle seat next to a young man with extreme B.O. I could just about take it when he was still, but I almost passed out any time he moved an arm. Luckily he slept through most of the flight. I'd nearly forgotten all the reasons I so love to fly.

It was a fun trip, though, even if it had its moments of trauma, and it was a good baby step for me. Thanks so much to Neil, The Fabulous Lorraine, and publicist Elyse Marshall for making it happen.