NEW YORK, Feb. 17, 2005 — It is a day spent flying and thinking about flying and dealing with airports and settling into a hotel.

We were up early, ready in plenty of time. It was a good thing because I had to fool around with one of Forrest's backups. And we had time to sit and watch the final episode of Northern Exposure which we'd recorded on the DVR.

We got off to the airport quite early. We like to be early. We parked at FasPark, rode the bus and checked our big bag at the curb. We went inside to see about getting our seats upgraded. (I checked in online and then got upgrade notification.) We get boarding cards in first but not together which we decide is OK.

First stop in the waiting: Fara Café. It is outside the security and owned by friends. I have a coffee and FFP has a salad. I work a puzzle. We are at the airport, have boarding cards. Of course, there is security to hurdle. Next we do that. When we are putting overcoats, blazers, laptop, hand luggage on the belt there isn't much of anyone else around. We notice one of the gray tubs with a ThinkPad just sitting there. No one else is around. FFP goes back to point it out to the security guard checking IDs. A businessman got it out but both forgot to put it through the machine and apparently walked off. He shows up while we are collecting all our stuff. That was one relieved guy.

We wait some more at the gate. There is a photo shoot going on and some gals are doing makeup and handing out clothes for models and photographers are bustling around. The plane is more or less on time. It isn't non-stop to La Guardia but the same plane goes on after Houston. We settle in, FFP moving to let another couple sit together. As we taxi, a couple of self-important cell phone calls are barely finished in time to satisfy the flight attendants. One goes on about adding attachments and another talks about bids beings "floating, solid or synthetic." At least that's what I thought I heard. The flight to Houston is over in a blink. We wait for the continued boarding and are delayed a little and then off to New York. We eat the so-so food (it is, at least, free since we got upgraded). I have water a little wine. Read. For some reason I think about the summer of '86 when I flew back and forth to Manhattan to work at a perfectly useless consulting gig. Well, useless to the client. My company got money and I got paid. I enjoyed the city, though. I also got a few upgrades to first on American and learned that the linen napkins had a buttonhole so you could protect your shirt and tie. (Assuming you had a button-up shirt and tie on.) I learned a lot that summer about many things.

At LGA, we meet our car service, get our bag and walk with our driver to get the car. The air feels cold in the parking lot and suddenly our overcoats are welcome. (I dusted off the shoulders of them yesterday.)

We arrive at The Helmsley Park Lane uneventfully. I start toting up the score: lots of towels, a little fridge, flat screen TV, desk, what looks like high speed Internet access, hangers that come out of the closet, a room you can at least turn around in and an iron and ironing board. All good. On the bad side the bathroom is a little dingy and you hope the red stain on the shower curtain is finger nail polish. It does have a make-up mirror. On the bad side it turns out that the TV is run by Windows XP and therefore has to be booted a couple of times and occasionally gives odd error messages (no H:\ file for example) and has this pokey interface to get into watching TV. And the Internet access is weird and sometimes acts like it wants to be paid but it does work mostly. [And, after all is said and done, they don't charge for it.]

I unpack our stuff and while I am FFP calls the restaurant and we dress up a little and go down and have our dinner on the second floor overlooking the park. We can see an orange glow from the park when lights go through it. A big flag flaps outside the window. You can see snow flurries in the lights.

Tomorrow will be a big day. We sleep.