The last day at work before the trip.

It's funny how your daily routine can seem special when you know you'll be away for a while. I found myself quite satisfied as I sat down on the bus for the last leg of my commute, knowing that It would be a while before I make the trip again. Montreal in the spring is always enjoyable, the terraces are open and thriving, trees blossoming, and a fine fresh feeling, after the grime and slush of a long enough winter. The park, the longer days, green grass, blooming flowers, and open bike paths make leaving an almost melancholy act.

I always find that the time leading up to trip is like a drain emptying, or one of those coin slides they used to have at McDonalds when I was a kid. Slowly but steadily time seems to speed up, circling toward the drain of the airport, and finally onto the eight hour cocoon of a 747 or some other jet. Until your spit out on the other end, usually sleep deprived, and in the middle of some cycle completely unfamiliar to the one you left, but full of possibilities.

See you on Sunday.