My Pontiac Grand Prix screams up I-25. Through the passenger windows, the early morning sun bursts across the plains in brilliant red, orange and yellow. Out my side, the mountains are barely sillouheted against the dark sky. Luckily, traffic is light and I dodge around semis and lombering RVs.

An hour ago, about halfway to Denver, I reached down to make a phone call and realized my phone was sitting on the bed back at home. My time buffer had quickly evaporated and now I'm driving nervously to the airport. It's not so much because I'm late. I'm worried because NPR is broadcasting the news of the terrorist plot in the UK earlier this morning. I expect the lines will be crazy.

If this were merely a blip on an otherwise normal travel day, the moment would be forgetful enough. But it's an important stage in my day full of travel: one rental car to return, security to pass, four segments to fly and a wedding to attend. It's the second stage that would cause the problems.

At check-in, I dump out all my liquids -- saying farewell to some little bottles of goodness from hotels around the world. The agent at the 1K/Global Services desk is kind enough to put me on a later flight and secures me a seat in First. I'll still make my connection in Texas.

I run down the escalators to security, quite shocked to see even the premium passenger security queue snaking around the zip lines. People look nervous, some look mad. One woman asks the security guard to taste her drink to make sure it really is Coke so she doesn't have to toss it. He makes her toss it. The janitorial service is already making the rounds collecting huge bags running over with sodas, water, lotions, shaving cream and toothpaste. I bet there's some valuable stuff in there.

The rest of my day went off fairly well, until I get to my last connection which is stalled thanks to a thunderstorm. The power in the airport actually goes off for a long two seconds. Have you ever heard hundreds of people all gasp at once? I get to Kentucky at 2AM. Very tired.