It was another of those long travel days.

I enjoy everything about travelling, except for the travelling. That is, I like the results of travelling: getting to meet new people, see new things, and reconnect with old friends. But the actual travel part—well, that’s another matter.

My day had started out early. I had woken up after only 4 hours sleep the night before, perhaps too eagerly anticipating the return home after three weeks in Brasil. I ate lunch on the Copacabana beachfront, leisurely consuming my wonderful (and yet inexpensive) meat dish, following it with a few Caipirinhas. After hooking up with a few friends for one last round of drinks, I was now boarding a plane at 10pm that would take me overnight to Atlanta.

I can usually nap an hour or two on an overnight flight, but that’s all I got this time. And after clearing Customs in Atlanta, I realized I still had 6 hours to kill before getting aboard the next 5-hour flight to Portland.

It’s a good thing I have a healthy sense of denial.