The spousal unit and I have travelled only slightly more than your average garden slug, never having set foot off North America. And now, on Sept. 23, we're going to step on a plane and between airport time and time on planes spend 36 hours getting to Perth, Australia.

    That is, if we don't die in a flaming mass of twisted metal, eh.

    The man I married is exhibiting depths of cruelty heretofore kept well under wraps. Last week he made me watch a TV special about spectacular air disasters.

    The first disaster, OF COURSE, involved a flight to Australia in the late '80's that saw part of the passenger compartment explode off, sucking unwary travellers out into the ether to plummet 30,000 feet to their death.

    Oh man.

    One of the survivors said he lived because he had his seatbelt on. I have decided that I will now be The Woman Who Wears Her Seatbelt All The Time. If there is a way to wear it while visiting the bathroom, I will.

    Of course, because of this, the plane I'm on will plummet down into the ocean and I will drown because ... I'm wearing my seatbelt and it won't open.

    Oh man.

    It has crossed my mind that there are probably things we can do to make our trip better. A dear, well travelled friend has already e-mailed me to recommend that I bring wet wipes on my trip--apparently it isn't always easy to wash your hands when you want when you're on the road.

    Gentle readers, some of you helped me navigate the minefield that was tofu. Thanks to your kindness and recipes, we are gradually working that pasty gack--oops, did I say that out loud? I meant to say white, healthful substance--into our diet. I am truly grateful.

    It strikes me that many of you are probably also seasoned travelers, with little nuggets of travel wisdom about things we should take on our trip, things we shouldn't.

    In other words ... HELP!

    Thanking you in advance for your time and trouble, I remain your humble and obedient servant