I visited home this past Christmas. The trip took me from Philadelphia, my unfortunate place of residence, to Chicago, my hometown. In hindsight, I suspect my enthusiasm for the trip largely stemmed from the desire to eat lots of protein bars and drink RedBull. The combination of the two, coming so shortly after a series of catastrophically stressful exams and work deadlines, left me slightly mentally stewed. Along the way, somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, probably around the Allegheny Rance, I saw a pedestrian bridge which popped over the highway below. The roadway swung to the left and tracked alongside the mountain, which meant, had I enough speed in my tiny, effeminate Toyota Yaris, I could make the jump. I turned to the devil on my shoulder who told me, "RAMP IT," then to the angel on my other shoulder who told me, "RAMP IT." I turned instead to the reptilian brain in my head, the one responsible for survival and reproduction, and it said, "What is ramp?"When I stopped rolling I came to the realization that the thousands of dollars of damage to my suspension, engine, windows, wheels, transmission, car, self, and environment may better have been invested in protein bars and plane tickets. The total for the trip was about $200 in gas and 24 hours in time, round trip -- cheaper than flying in a strictly financial sense, but neglecting time costs. 24 is a very optimistic estimate. The total was likely closer to 34 hours, since every two hours or so I'd stop for a fifteen to twenty minute break.Philadelphia (most of the east coast, really) was in the middle of a warm spell when I departed. It came as something of a shock to me when I opened my door to get gas, only to have my face immediately freeze and break off. The temperature dropped from 60F (15C) in Philly to 4F (-15C) in Chicago with a windchill of negative fuck you. By linear regression, Chicago was due to hit absolute zero in 4.55 days.Then came family. At least in my case, it's easy to get psyched about seeing family. Harder, though, is maintaining enthusiasm after your arrival. The cleanliness of the house writes something of a poetic metaphor for the optimism of the entire ordeal. Arrive with great excitement, everything is clean. Set down your suitcase and catch up, slight clutter here and there. Finish reflecting, cook some food, whatever, we'll clean up later. Someone's getting irritated for no reason, dirty plates build up on the counter. Leave with as much enthusiasm as you arrived. Just before departure, a moment of steadfast, lingering sadness as you realize your irrational irritation is fleeting and that soon enough you won't have any family to which you can return.The road back is less stressful than the ride there somehow, though by this time you've had enough protein bars to shit some decent grade dog food. Hour four passes. Almost there. Another... eight hours? Okay. A whole day at the office left."Oh god I have to go to work tomorrow."I said this out loud at around midnight, when I realized my arrival time was going to be 2:00 AM. The trip degraded into a spiteful pissing match between myself and Google Maps. Google was utterly convinced I would arrive at 1:52AM, despite my meticulous speeding and chemical abuse. I figured Google was being kind and assuming the speed limit would be maintained. I was right, and by keeping myself consistently 15% above the posted speed limit I was able to arrive at 1:51AM. Suck it, big data.Happy New Year!