Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Business travel, I mean. Some people go to Toronto or Paris (France) or go bask in the sunshine of San Diego. Me? I always wind up someplace horrible, like Texas. This next time, it's Missouri.

Missouri only has one thing going for it. It's not Texas.

As if that wasn't bad enough, it's Branson, Missouri, the watering hole of used-to-be C&W stars, happy home of deep-fried food, and frightfest of folksy décor.

Because I am a Good Child, after the business meeting on the fourth, I will drive down to see my mother, through the early morning hours of Sunday, May 8. Let us all hope this makes her happy. I will have no internet access. I doubt there's a computer in the entire town (pop. 57) where my mother lives.

The fun will include staying overnight in a hotel that the website swore was 3-star and that I found out, only after I'd booked it, was 2-star, in a neighborhood that could be anything from bad to absolutely terrifying, Many miles of unfamiliar highway driving, then taking tricky, "you can only get there if you've been there before" back road twists and turns to get to the nowheresville backwater of Branson before taking yet more undiscovered roads to arrive at the bugspot town where my mother lives, before I have to do it all over again in reverse.

Already I find myself looking forward to the moment when I climb back on a plane and come home.

I used to travel to the East Coast on most of my business trips. Usually NYC or DC. I complained about those, too, to be honest. I like to travel. I just don't like to travel on business.

Later,

I. M. Bitter