Our magical mystery tour of the east coast began this week when we flew from LA to Philadelphia. Somehow, our day simulated a Swiss watch or (for my fellow holiday travelers) the U-Bahn. We entered the parking garage near LAX just as the shuttle bus arrived. The driver was kind enough to wait for us, and we were fortunately the first ones to be dropped off at the terminal. One never knows with LAX. We then get to security within a half hour of our flight departure time, and made it through with our carryon luggage (both the husband and I with our respective laptops and suitcases, as well as my bag of food for our cross-country flight). Finally, we arrived at the gate within ten minutes of our departure. Not a problem even though we were the last ones to board. I only began to worry slightly upon touching down in Atlanta when I realized we would need to take a train from one terminal to another to catch the second leg within a 25-minute layover. (Yes, we flew from L.A. to Atlanta and then to Philadelphia.) Again, the travel gods smiled upon us as we ran through two terminals and arrived at our second gate with enough time to grab a quick chicken sandwich with Louisiana hot sauce for the final ride. We finally collapsed in the City of Brotherly Love after more than ten hours of traveling. Ah, ’tis the season.