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Ok, where was I before the commercial break?
Oh, on a plane feeling all smug. There I am, mag's gone to printers and I'm jet-setting to my first trade show.
THEN, at my connecting Heathrown, my mobile phone is a buzz with the calls from the head print office. Money issues? no. Deadline issues? no. Printing issues. Yes. No, please say it isn't so. So I'm now frantic and desperate to find my designer and fix the pages for printing can carry on. Thankfully, I have a designer who alive and well and can do the job.
I had to do everything to get this magazine to perfect shape, my life depends on it. So does the advertising, the subscribers, my mind and soul, my marriage, my childeren's childhood, the aupair's return (ah! she'll never find her passport!), everything!
Onto Houston. Wrong. During all the fiasco, I miss my flight. Well I miss my boarding, I'm sure my plane was still on English soil, but you know, post911, nothing goes.
I'm beyond furious, I'm a responsible adult and this happens. The last flight I missed was in 1994 and I missed my NY connection to Martinque and that resulted in 5 further connections and 7 hours in San Juan...but that was after an all night drinking fest in NYC with Lenny from the Bronx. Or was it Benny? Jenny?
Anyway, I'm back out the door to get my shuttle and hit Houston much this morning. DH questions the logic of 36 hour journey for 4 hours of convention?
Yeah, but the Mexican food in Houston? Gotta have it!
Adios!
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