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Investing
Why You Need a Cast-iron Stomach to Manage Your Money Well
Content warning: Do not read while eating lunch.
The joys of Road Warriordom are many: cramped middle seats; endless flight delays; small, impossible-to-open bags of over-salted peanuts. Some days — thanks to delays, cancellations and ever-present bureaucratic stupidity — are worse than others.
That time, returning from a business trip to Charlottesville, Virginia, things seemed to be hunky dory.
It was a beautiful spring day, and we were right on schedule. Ours was a prop plane, but even that didn’t suck— a longer flight, yes, but also a more leisurely approach into La Guardia and a chance to savor the New York City skyline.
There was, however, one potential hitch — prop planes mean more turbulence. That doesn’t bother me (I have a cast-iron stomach), but it clearly was a problem for the woman and toddler seated across the aisle from me.
I haven’t seen that much projectile vomiting since one of my sons outgrew the stage. He shall remain nameless (you have a 50/50 shot at getting it right), but for the first two years of his life his nickname was “Sir Barfalot.”
I didn’t mind the in-flight vomit — being a parent teaches you compassion.
