Travels with Sizzle

All aboard . . .

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Be enthusiastic and curious, Debby!

—Me and Pico Iyer, Sizzle.

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Yay, you’re home, Debby! You left the printer on, and I didn’t know how to turn it off

—Yay, I’m home, Sizzle! Home coffee, home desk, sunlight! Don’t worry about the printer, sweetie. I made an effort to unplug some things while I was away for 10 days, and I left the damn printer on for 10 days. I took garbage out twice, and left a small amount of soymilk rotting in the fridge. That’s your Deb.

Now give us the best and the worst

—Aboard the QM2, among the best was having breakfast delivered to my stateroom. Eating quietly as at home, not having to talk to anyone except you.

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I didn’t hear much from you

—This new experience was distracting. Things were blended—among the best of breakfast delivery was a worst, the coffee—uniformly bad. I hesitated to switch to tea, which was Twining tea bags, for heaven’s sake, but I did, and life was better.

What else

—Not that I minded talking to people—among the bests were a dinner spent discussing with Theresa, Michele and Norah the books we had read recently, and another dinner spent talking movies, with Nick, Karen and Railey.

Dan would have liked that

—He would have, Sizzle, but I would have had to hog-tie and blindfold him to get him on the ship. Which you’ll now have to do to me. When I find myself thinking, next time I would upgrade to a balcony room, I say, No! Lock my door and throw away the key!

         But that goes into worsts, and I still have at least two bests.

         One, for flying in general, the joy of the wheelchair. If my right hip is killing me, and I am limping even with just my duffle-bag suitcase with its wheels and my dorky daypack carry-on balanced on both shoulders, and a nice manager-type man at LaGuardia steps forward and says, gently, “Would you like wheelchair?” Not only is the answer a heartfelt yes, but what a discovery! Speeding along in huge airports. At check-in, my wheelchair driver shouted, “Wheelchair!” scattering other flyers right and left.

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         Back home in San Diego, my wheelchair driver entered an area clearly marked NO ENTRY and we arrived at the necessary elevator in half the time. Elevator, Sizzle! These airports are HUGE! I could have never done it by myself, but just as important, I wish I had started asking for wheelchairs 20 years ago. There’s no wheelchair test, and it’s fun!

         Second, I feel like Ann Patchett and I took the trip together, though I’m sure we would have had to hogtie her, etc. I set out to read this essay collection during the trip,

and I finished it on the last leg of my trip, the plane home to San Diego.

         Early on, “The Getaway Car: A Practical Guide to Writing and Life,” was all that I or any writer needed. My plan now is to skip writers conferences and just read that essay at least annually.

         In the meantime, aboard the QM2, I found a row of comfortable chairs alongside big windows overlooking the cold, gray ocean day, and I continued to read. “The Sacrament of Divorce” is brilliant.

         Later, in LaGuardia, I shed tears over “The Bookstore Strikes Back,” a story of community and books.

         The title essay is wonderful.

         So there I was, Sizzle, spending my days with Ann Patchett, my rock star, my hero. She didn’t know it, but I did.

You were staring at the light

—That’s your Deb, Sizzle.