Travelling alone means solitary meals in restaurants and hours to live in my own head. Travelling alone, I enjoy the chance to have the hotel room to myself, gleefully flipping through channels on the TV, spreading out as much as possible across the bed and leaving trails of items behind me as I take up as much space as I can in the room. It also leads to succumbing to the lure held within the cell phone. I don't know what I did before Overdrive and The New York Times apps because I rarely look up long enough to do so. Sitting at a bar one night eating dinner and, yes, enjoying a drink, I crawled out from under the thrall of my cell phone. Not for any noble reason, I finished my book and did not have another one downloaded at that moment. Looking up, I witnessed the waitress nimbly dance around the busboy. Crash avoided. What other near misses, crashes, serendipitous events had slipped by in my failure to look up? It was nothing to the performers of that dance. They were professionals after all. It was, however, more than any human interaction I found on my screen. I put away my cell phone, able to breathe a little more deeply, and finished my drink.
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