Wheels Up, Stress Down

Yesterday was a marathon. I worked a full shift plus two extra hours and somehow still managed to pack for my trip to Bermuda. Right up until my Uber pulled up, I was racing the clock—not just to zip my suitcase, but to clean up a last-minute error in a project I’m leading. Naturally, I didn’t catch the mistake until my overnight counterpart had logged off, leaving me scrambling to find someone to hand things off to. I had to explain the entire project, my error, and the fix—all while multitasking.

As I juggled that crisis, pings from across the enterprise kept pouring in. Everyone wanted clarity on the upcoming transition to ISO 20022—a high-priority initiative I’m deeply involved in. Despite my Teams status being set to "Out of Office," I couldn't ignore them. Between packing, handing off work, and replying to urgent messages, the last hours at home were pure chaos. When I got the notification that my Uber was two minutes away, it felt like a small miracle.

Airport Lessons and Woes

At MSP, I usually go through the security checkpoint near Concourse G—Stone Arch is right there, and I love me some Stone Arch. But since my flight was departing from Concourse C, I decided to try the south checkpoint. Game changer. That end of the terminal has upgraded scanners, so you don’t need to remove anything from your bags. I breezed through TSA in four minutes. This is now my new go-to.

Unfortunately, when I got to my gate, I saw the dreaded “Delayed” notification. Flight delays are apparently my 2025 theme. The only flight I’ve had this year that was on time was from Panama City to Atlanta. At this point, I’m rocking an on-time departure rate of less than 20 percent. If I hadn’t been meeting people in Boston, I probably wouldn’t have cared, but I’ve learned to accept that air travel is a black box of unpredictability. Stressing doesn’t help.

I'm Shipping Up to Boston

We landed late, and the situation didn’t improve once we hit the ground. The taxiway traffic at Logan is just as chaotic as Boston’s roads during rush hour. And of course, I had brilliantly booked a flight that landed right in the middle of rush hour. It took another 30–40 minutes just to reach the gate.

That said, things picked up from there: the airport was easy to navigate, my bag was already on the carousel when I got to baggage claim, and I quickly got an Uber.

Then we hit the streets...

Driving in Boston is like stepping into an alternate universe—one where lane markers are merely suggestions, blinkers are used sparingly (if at all), honking is a language of its own, and traffic laws seem to function more like polite suggestions.

Coming from Minneapolis, where drivers are usually courteous and patient, Boston roads were a jarring wake-up call. Here’s a snapshot of my first 10 minutes on the road:

• A car cut across three lanes without using a turn signal.

• Someone honked at us for stopping at a red light.

• We entered a rotary (aka a roundabout) and were nearly sideswiped by someone who didn’t signal and acted like we were in the wrong.

Back in Minnesota, people wave you in, use blinkers, and leave space. There’s an unspoken etiquette on our pothole-ridden roads. In Boston? I’ve driven in combat zones with more consistent road behavior. Drivers here operate like they’re on a mission—and they assume you’re not. If you hesitate, even for a second, you’re done. Cut off. Overtaken. Relentlessly honked at.

Happy Hour

After that crash course in Boston traffic culture, I finally met up with my friends and their family, who’ll also be on the cruise. Once the cocktails started flowing and the laughter kicked in, I finally felt the tension start to melt.

In just a few hours, we’ll be boarding the NCL Jewel and setting sail for one of my favorite places in the world: Bermuda.