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The Dewars Lounge in Terminal C of the Southwest Florida Regional Airport is nearly empty. Ours is the last flight of the night. Over beers and sandwiches, I tell Abbi about the round of golf my brother, father and I played this morning. “I tell myself two things before every shot,” I said. “Keep your…

It’s a rare thing to witness someone you love do something you love to do, but better, and to more fanfare. Such was the case last night when my pals Casey Shea, Wes Verhoeve, and Jeff Jacobson — aka

It’s a pre-flight ritual: LAX’s Expedia Lounge, washing down a Xanax with a tall Sam Adams and a sandwich, writing home. I just got off the phone with Abbi, who I called back after a terse, vacant call from the Hertz shuttle bus. “In the event this is our last conversation,” I said, “I want…

I woke up at 5:14 this morning, then tossed and turned and worried until the alarm sounded at six. Will this headache go away? Are these chest pains a harbinger? Will my knee heal? Will I finish the marathon? Am I doing too much? Will I get sick next week? What are the lyrics to…

Though I deliver this post to you from the stark white, Midcentury interior of my Palm Springs Bungalow, where the sun is presiding over a crystal clear, 90° afternoon, I will tell you in no uncertain terms (with a reticence to sound like a malcontent) that it is all bittersweet (more sweet than bitter, but…

I’m in a cab headed uptown, just southeast of Chrysler Building (my favorite New York City skyscraper, hands-down). I’m tapping this missive into my Blackberry while listening to The Changes’ “When I Wake.” The song is genius. The chorus makes me immediately happy: all synths, upbeat drums, and the catchiest melody since Madness’ “Our House.”…