The Weekly Meat

Long-Haul Flying

The most daunting travel many of us face is the prospect of a long (8+ hours) flight — or series of flights — that will eventually land us in an entirely foreign country, or return us to our own.

Herewith — gathered from both personal experience, and some rich crowdsourcing — a few critical tips and tricks for those intrinsically hellish 14-hour long-haul flights.

• No kids. Nothing raises your blood pressure and makes every slight setback (one-hour delay, no more chicken meals, etc.) a major issue faster than traveling with kids. That said, once you've flown with kids, short-haul flying without them is a piece of cake. And long-hauling is doable. But if at all possible, leave the kids at home. (Note: If you absolutely must take kids with you, you must also absolutely slip them some kids' Benadryl.)
  
  
• Plan, dummy. The Interwebs make it easy to plan. So take some time completely obsessing about the trip to do so. Pick the best Airline (in-seat entertainment; choose your own adventure). Route. Layover.
  
  
• Go first class. People who fly first class from, say, New York to Boston, are rich, pompous asshats, or frequent flyers with miles to burn. People who fly first class from, say, New York to Sydney are smart people we all envy. And if you can't swing first class, at least do some homework and get yourself a good seat.
  
  
• Choose drugs. Escape and relaxation are key on the long-haul. But alcohol, like altitude, dehydrates you — which makes life worse on the back-end of any long flight. Less so with many drugs — including, but not limited to, those that help you sleep. So bum an Ambien from a friend, save a Percoset from that root canal, kill a hobo for his Valium.
  
  
• Singapore Airlines. The best around. The US fliers are the hoopties of the service industry. Singapore Air is top shelf. If they fly to your destination, make it happen.
  
  
• Gear up. Be prepared. Load offline movies and content onto the iPad or phone. Charge everything. Bring your own comfortable headphones. Book; magazines; good snacks; plug adapters; layers of clothing; earplugs, eyeshade, toothbrush. Eat wisely: carbs before bed, protein to wake up with (even if it's a power bar).

• Location, location, location. Get an aisle seat, so you're not locked in. Hydrate enough so you have to get up and pee often. While you're at it, roam the aisles, stand against a bulhead, stretch your legs, your back. Exercise. Then watch another movie and go back sleep.

There you go, people. Now go. Go! Just don't take my goddamn aisle seat.

Middle Age Trail Map

Navigating middle age can be difficult even in pristine conditions (rarely-seen in these parts). Stick to the detailed trail maps below, and do not, under any circumstances, attempt to venture off piste.

Good luck, people.

 

 

Full trail map PDF, suitable for framing, available here.

How to Name a Child

Possibly the most profound and long-lasting of all parenting decisions is one of the first. Namely, what is it we and others are meant to call this new being?

I bring this up because my wife and I are expecting our third child in the next month.

We've already named two kids, and we're not without our ideas, but it's safe to say that we're not exactly sweating the name this time around. As of yet, we don't really have a clear consensus — despite the kids' entreaties to name him either "Baby Shrump," "Fred Baby," or "Diaper."

We'll do what we've done in the past and save ourselves half the battle by using my wife's last name (she kept her name) as the kid's middle name — a nice touch that I'd like to think will give the kids a better sense of both halves of the geneological family.

But still, that first name isn't easy — for us, or for anyone. So herewith, ten critical considerations; guidelines, if you will, for naming a kid:

DO IT RIGHT AWAY

Though we're folks who spent a week naming our first cat (literally calling him by different names to try them out), and two days naming our second cat — I can't conceive of doing the same with an actual child, though we've had friends and family who have. Among other things, it calls additional attention to the name once finally agreed on. "Herman? Herman!? It took you three weeks to name your kid and that is the best you could come up with?"

So do it before you leave the hospital. And for those of you planning to have a baby at home, don't sweat it — your baby will be called Moonbeam. You damn hippies.

NO NAMES THAT CAUSE OTHERS TO QUESTION YOUR ABILITY TO SPELL

Our neighbors have a daughter named Serenna [sic]. They pronounce it "sareena," as one would if it were spelled "the normal way": Serena. They're perfectly nice people. Honest. Good neighbors. But that double "n" makes me wonder if a spelling error occurred somewhere between the thought and the birth certificate paperwork.

NO PUNCTUATION

I'm down, yo, don't get me wrong. But D'Andre? Amar'e? Please. No apostrophes, no hyphens, no semicolons, no periods, no lowercase. And for god's sake, no will.i.am lowercase and periods together! I don't care if you think it's cultural or hip or whatever. Save it for a nickname. No one deserves to be known by the state as something like T-Bone.

NO PET NAMES

Some relatives that shall remain unnamed (wife's side of the family; I'm just saying), have suggested we name the impending boy Puck. "You guys are literary, so you've got the allusion to Shakespeare" (A Midsummer Night's Dream), they say, and you've got the obvious hockey-crazed thing too. It's perfect!"

All true. Except that we're talking about a human being, not a labrador retriever.

Likewise...

NO RAP NAMES

Before you name your baby O-Dog or Crunk or Money, go get yourself a copy of Garage Band or hit a freestyle open mic night. Do whatever it takes to live your own damn pipe dreams instead of pushing them onto your kid.

NO STRIPPER NAMES

You can name a girl Destiny or Crystal or Chyna, but understand full well that they stand a far better chance of ending up as a stripper or a porn star, than, say, a Rachel.

And remember...

YOU AND YOUR CHILD ARE NOT AS UNIQUE AS YOU THINK YOU ARE

We all seem to want to find a name that's somewhat unique. I can understand that. But by doing so, you run a heavy risk of too unique. Too unique is just not good. Too unique is really only for those rich enough to buy either friendship or protection — or those whose father is Frank Zappa. Because kids with names like Dweezil or Apple or Suri or Siri just wind up (rightly) getting the piss taken out of them at school. Every day.

I mean...

REMEMBER: THE KID HAS TO LIVE WITH THIS NAME

Even without getting into Boy Named Sue territory, our names can influence how others see us, how we're treated, and how we feel about ourselves. My older daughter RK has a friend whose older brother is named Happy. We don't think it's his given name, but that's what his parents, teachers, and friends call him. And that, apparently, is what he will be expected to live up to. Happy. Might be fine now, in fifth grade, but in a few years when the teen angst hits hard and he wants nothing more than to sulk and listen to The Smiths?

Which leads us to...

THINK ABOUT IT LIKE A 12-YEAR-OLD

I run every possibility through my mental Rolodex of teasing. I mean, if your last name is Hoffman, you simply don't want to name a boy Jack. Because Jack Hoffman (say it: "jackoff man") is a bit too, well, Mike Hunt. So think about how your proposed name can be twisted by a snot-nosed 12-year-old.

And lastly...

KEEP IT TO YOURSELF

My wife and I refuse to discuss possible names with anyone but each other — a domestic life scar on behalf of friends who 10 years ago allowed to us and another couple that the two finalists for their soon-to-be-girl were Emma and . . . Sarafina. I can't remember if they actually asked what we thought, but — Tony-award-winning musical or not — I do know that I had an opinion on the proposed choices. And my opinion should have had nothing to do with their naming decision.

P.S. Their second daughter was not named Sarafina either.  ;-)

There you have it, folks. Procreate away.

How to Stay Married

Today is my 10th wedding anniversary.

"Is this true, BK?" you might ask yourself? "Tell us — how do you do it?"

The answers are simple, my friends. "Not easy," as they say in AA, "but simple."

 

Step 1: Marry the right person.

OK, let me be clear about this: When I say "the" right person, I really mean "a" right person. Because — despite the fact that we are made to feel blasphemous for saying it — in the same way that there is more than one successful and rewarding career path out there for any of us, there is also more than one "right" person.

That said, just don't get involved with more than one right person at any given time. Which leads us to...

Step 2: Do not have sex with other women.

This is an important one, folks. No matter what you thought your wedding vows said or didn't say, unless your last name is- say- Berlusconi, you'll be expected to remain faithful. How does one do this, when there are women out there who look like Maggie Gyllenhaal, you might ask?

Well, "one day at a time."

Among other things, I remind myself each morning that I do not actually know Maggie Gyllenhaal, nor is she aware of who I am — and she is also married. To a guy who can out-act me.

Step 3: Do not have sex with other men.

Not even George Clooney (who — admit it — is the safe gay crush of all heterosexual males between the ages of 16 and 60).

Step 4: Just don't have sex with anyone but your spouse. OK?

Step 5: When attempting to conceive your first child, you must be willing to drop the gloves and go during the Stanley Cup playoffs. Commercial break or not is up for debate, but, well, there it is.

Step 6: Do not go to a hockey game on the night of your 10th anniversary. Even if your very own Philadelphia Flyers are in town.

And it's the first game of the season. Just don't.

Let's not even talk about this one anymore. OK?

Step 7: Work is not more important either.

Step 8: Neither is your goddamn iPhone.

Step 9: Apologize. You're being a self-centered shit.

Step 10: Seriously. Tell your spouse — yes, out loud — that you love them. If you have done Step 1 properly, this will not be a problem.

Step 11: Repeat step 10 as necessary.

 

And finally...

Step 12: Each year, on the night of your anniversary, kids or no kids, have a quiet cande-lit dinner with your spouse.

Dig out the copy of your wedding vows that you keep buried in your desk drawer or in a favorite book or in an email you sent to yourself 10 years ago. [Note: If you did not keep a copy of your wedding vows, one of two things has occurred: Either 1) You did not do Step 1 properly, or 2) You are reading the wrong blog).]

Hold your spouse's hand, and repeat your wedding vows to each other.

:::::::::::::::::::

 

That's all, folks. The steps are not easy, but they are simple. If you're confused about how one conducts a relationship itself, see the primer my wife and I wrote on the subject: "How to Travel with Your Significant Other and Not Break Up"

How to Accept an Honorary Degree

Apropos of nothing but the season. (Though I am available for any and all honorary degrees.)

1. Open with an obvious joke making light of something easily observed on campus, OR on a decidedly somber note in light of recent tragic world events, and then an obvious joke making light of something easily observed on campus (especially if at your alma mater [from which you never graduated because see #6, below]).
2. Give thanks, it's a true honor, you're not worthy.
3. Big up to the parents for footing the bill, with winking aside to the kids and joke about making the parents nervous.
4. Hat tip to your own parents, followed by bit of self-deprecating humor centered around the fact that you are receiving a doctorate for nothing more than simply being famous.
5. Anecdote about your own college days; hint at youthful indiscretions.
6. Anecdote about how you found your calling and became famous through hard work and dumb luck but with the underlying theme being that you made a conscious decision to stay true to yourself, and the audience should too — fame and fortune be damned.
7. Side note about the fact that none of us needs to aspire to saving the world if we each just do our small part.
8. Life is meant to be fun.
9. Five-second group consciousness exercise.
10. Anecdote about your own college days; hint at youthful indiscretions.
11. Note staggeringly-obvious differences between college and the capital-letters Real World (without dating yourself by referring to MTV's The Real World, which surely must have died off in the mid-'90s but I don't care enough to spend the five seconds to fact-check it).
12. Circular logic about contradictory nature of this speech and life itself.
13. Exploration metaphor!
14. Elevated language — you're getting close.
15. Heartfelt congratulations and gratitude.
16. Joke about looking them up in ten years while seeking employment opportunities.
17. Hallmark card advice (e.g., No, for real, see #16, above)
18. Make fun of Hallmark card advice.
19. Give Hallmark card advice anyway, but in sound bite form.
20. Twitter from stage.

How to Road Trip

In my teens and twenties, I managed to put in a lot of time on the open roads between jobs. I've driven cross country and back several times; twice, solo; been up and down the East Coast; done the Canadian route through Quebec and Ontario and back down through Michigan's U.P..; hit every state in the continental U.S. but for Arkansas, Mississippi, and Alabama. Hell, just two weeks ago I did the 16-hour drive from Chicago to Boston.

Mostly, my time on the road was before cellphones and the interwebs and WIFI and, yes, even before widespread ATMs — and so I developed my own "best practices" (as these sorts of things would come to be called later in my professional life). Since Memorial Day weekend marks the official start of road trip season, here are the hits:

• Plan a route. Out are the days of grandma's AAA Trip-Tick, and in are the days of the ubiquitous GPS system. Still, you need context, and it's incredibly helpful to have a decent map. That said, skip the fold-out state maps in favor of an atlas that you can actually balance on the steering wheel and study while eating truckstop jerky and doing 85+ across Montana.
  
  Interstates in the U.S. are laid out in a logical manner that one would not expect of the U.S. Department of Anything. Odd-numbered roads run north/south, while even-numbered ones run east/west. Further, the road numbering goes up from west (where you can drive I-5 from San Diego to Seattle) to east (I-95 from Miami to Bangor, Maine) and from south (I-10 from LA to Jacksonville, Florida) to north (I-90 from Seattle to Boston). So when you wake up groggy at the intersection of routes I-70 and I-35 (Kansas City), you'll know to order the ribs.


• Be prepared. Nothing worse than locking your keys in your car. Take it from someone who has asked a bush pilot, a mechanic, and a cop (all successfully) to break into his locked car, and save yourself the aggravation by keeping an extra set in your pocket or in the pocket of whomever else is in the car. Door locks are much more problematic for the keyless than they once were, and car windows are not as easy to break as Hollywood would make it seem.
  
  Don't trust your gas gauge. Figure out what your average cruising distance (a full tank of gas) is on the open road. And remember, in stop and go traffic, or if you are driving with your air conditioner on, it will wind up being considerably less.
  
  Keep change for tollbooths, or better yet, get an EZ-Pass transponder (see also, I-Pass, I-Zoom, Fast Lane, etc.) — which, on my recent Chicago-Boston jaunt was accepted in every state but Ohio, and which saved me much hassle, and at least a half hour at the tollbooths.

  Know where you're headed, and who else is headed there. Passing through Boston on your way to Cape Cod on a Friday afternoon in July? Bring some reading and a bottle to pee in, because you'll be sitting in traffic. Just happen to be in South Dakota during the first week in August (as I have)? Well, drop on in to Sturgis (as I have). Camping in central Maine in the next few weeks? So are the black flies. Bring DEET.

• Sleep for cheap. A road trip is about the road, about quests, about destinations. With that in mind, stay on the cheap for any intermediate stops. Once you get to your destination, relax, put your feet up, drop a bit of cash. I'm not a big fan of sleeping in the car — even for a night or two — mainly because there are far better alternatives. Camping is my go-to M.O. (though I have a soft spot for the sort of national chain motels that leave the light on for you and advertise their prices on billboards by the side of the interstates). A few thoughts on camping:
  
  • Get a tent you can set up alone, within minutes, while it's raining. Because it will rain.
  • If you'll be near two or more national parks, buy a year pass.
  • Favor national forests over state parks — especially on weekends, when locals take over state parks.
  
  
• Prepare for the worst. If you roll in a 15-year-old hoopty-ass Camry, like I have until recently, any mechanic worth their salt can fix it, as long as there's a place nearby for parts. But if your car is a hybrid — or was manufactured in, say, Sweden — print out a list of dealers so you'll know where to get it serviced. Because in middle America, few are gonna know how to do anything but change the oil on that rig.
  
  Also, two things will happen — as they inevitably do — at some point during your travels:
  
  1. Your battery will die. Take jumper cables and know how to use them. If you have a manual transmission, know that you can do a rolling jump-start in second gear.
  2. You will get a flat tire. Take a full-size spare, and know how to change it. Know where your jack is hidden, and forgo the car's standard tire iron for one sturdy enough to stand on — because there are few things more stubborn than lug nuts that have been tightened with a torque gun.


• Pack smart. Use the car's storage space to its full potential. An extra blanket or two stowed under the trunk are manna to the wet and weary. Put a roll of toilet paper under the front seat and I promise you it will someday be needed (and soon after that day, thank me with beer). You'll get stale from being on the road long before a brick of packaged peanut butter crackers, and they're instant energy in a pinch. And it's always good to have bottled water around. At summer car temperatures, it may not satisfy, but it will certainly keep you (or even your car) hydrated. And money; a ragged twenty in the glovebox will go just far enough on a Sunday when you're in a dustbowl town with only one cash machine in town, and it is FUBAR.


• Eat well. Fast food is bullshit. Get off the highway and talk to real locals over real food that you can't get back home. Trust Roadfood, Chowhound, and your instincts. And if you are feeling bold, pick up a copy of the brilliantly titled Manifold Destiny: The One! The Only! Guide to Cooking on Your Car Engine! and cook while you drive.
  


• Don't get dead. If you're planning on driving alone, try to drink liquids often enough that you'll need to pull over for a rest stop every couple of hours. Pace yourself. Caffeinate, but not overly. Know your car's limits as well as your own. Check your tires and fluid levels. Service your car when it needs it. And don't fall asleep.

Happy trails, y'all.

How to Win Friends and Influence People

As summer rolls in, it's important we all brush up on the amateur musicianship that used to get us laid back in college.

You did play guitar in college, right?

Well, get the led out. Literally. Brain dump all those musty Led Zeppelin bits you learned back in high school. No one wants to hear your masterly picking on "Over the Hills and Far Away." There has only ever been one good use for Zeppelin (see Damone, Five-Point Plan), and even that is dated.

Alright. It's festival/backyard barbecue/family reunion season and you will be called upon to rally the troops, young and old. You'll need 45 minutes worth of tunes you can play and sing well. If you're lousy with lyrics, keep a sheaf of cheat sheets in your guitar case. The key is a varied repertoire in your vocal range, with no alternate tunings, and no more than a half-dozen chords.

Important!  Do not cater to children. Kids need to learn grown-up songs, not vice versa. Barney can go screw.

In compiling a solid playlist, you'll need at least one tune from the following dozen well-established musical genres:

Country: Let me be clear that I mean old-school country, not some nouveau radio-friendly crap sung by anyone remotely hot. The following are solid picks: Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried," Townes Van Zandt's "Pancho & Lefty," Jeff Walker's "I Feel Like Hank Williams Tonight," or the daddy of 'em all, Steve Goodman's David Allan Coe vehicle: "You Never Even Call Me By My Name." 

Folk: First, understand that folks were more patient for six- and seven-minute epics back in the coffee house days, but that dog don't hunt anymore. No one wants to hear you go prattling on about "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" or sit for all of "Tangled up in Blue," so keep it short. Dylan, John Prine, Gillian Welch, Josh Ritter, all fine choices.

Blues: You don't need to solo, but you do need to know your basic 12-bar 1-4-5. Rufus Thomas' "Walkin' the Dog" and Fats Domino's "I'm Walkin'" are brilliant tunes to get the house rocking.

Classic Rock: I've got a few, but (done well, mind you, not like this) nothing is easier or goes over better than AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long." (But for god's sake, if you insist on playing Led Zeppelin, do something like "Tangerine," because if I hear "Stairway to Heaven" I will break your guitar like Belushi.)

Indie Rock: Easy crowd-pleasers for the post-punk slacker moms and dads. "The Concept" by Teenage Fanclub, "Tennessee" by the Silver Jews, and the Pixies' "Here Comes Your Man."

Punk: No party is complete without some well-timed punk. Black Flag's version of "Louie, Louie," The Clash's "Death or Glory," Cock Sparrer's "England Belongs to Me." With the proper venom and snarl, these'll make them cough up a deviled egg.

Oldies: Gotta have a couple the AARP crowd knows the words to. Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou," Johnny Rivers' "Secret Agent Man," Buddy Holly's "Well... All Right."

A Capella: I know. But trust me — it's critical. It's the musical equivalent of golf's sand wedge. You've gotta have it in your bag for those times when you break a string, or are too drunk to keep time, or have to prove you actually can sing, or when you're night fishing for great whites. In fact, sea shanteys work like a charm in most instances, and at these trying times, give a nod to Quint and go with either "Show Me the Way to Go Home" or "Spanish Ladies" (incidentally, an excellent lullaby for kids). Another rollicking, sea-faring song with some teeth (and a "goddamn them all" chorus) is Stan Rogers' great "Barrett's Privateers," which I learned over a campfire ages ago at the Philadelphia Folk Festival.

Bluegrass: You need at least one tune to play with a banjo- or fiddle-toting friend. And if you don't have any friends who tote said instruments, you need to take a hard look at who you're hanging out with. I can't do a lick of real fingerpicking, but I can comp chords, and tunes like Hank Williams' "Jambalaya" or the Stanley Brothers' "Man of Constant Sorrow" work well.

Johnny Cash: You're damn skippy JC's a genre unto himself, and you best know a handful. "Folsom Prison Blues," "Ring of Fire," and "Tennessee Stud" for starters.

Songs about trains: No self-respecting musical hack can have a train-free repertoire — and not just so they can satisfy my train-crazed 4-year-old nephew (who is already familiar with the rail-heavy catalogs of Hank Snow and Jimmie Rodgers). I know maybe a dozen, but in a pinch, I'll take REM's "Driver 8," Roger Miller's "King of the Road," and Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line."

Songs about drinking: Give someone their first listen to Sonny Boy Williamson's classic "Sloppy Drunk Blues," or try to do justice to The Pogues' "Streams of Whiskey." It has a built-in party chorus and still sounds hella good after many rounds. For plenty more help with this genre, fumble your way over to the brilliant and encyclopedic Barstool Mountain.

Now, beyond all that, you've got to have a single go-to song — something short that you can do in any key, for any occasion, and at a moment's notice. That song should be a genre-buster; hitting several at once. The little banjo ditty Newman does in Cool Hand Luke ("Plastic Jesus") is a great place to start.

Dust off those fingers, boys and girls. It's time to go make an ass of yourself.

Mama Tried — Merle Haggard
Hello Mary Lou — Ricky Nelson
Barrett's Privateers — Stan Rogers
Streams of Whiskey — The Pogues

How to Get Ahead in Business

Introduction
Open with a joke followed by a mixed sports metaphor. If you can do both at the same time, you'll be batting a thousand right out of the gate!

(Note: Exclamation points are generally for admins and the folks in MarCom. But what the heck, break the rules occasionally!)

PowerPoint
Always use PowerPoint. It's the greatest tool of all time for prolonging a meeting. And nothing is more business-y than a good long self-important meeting. PowerPoint enables you to project your notes onto a big screen so you can then read them verbatim to attendees. It allows you to waste time, money, and create 1970s-style "fly-in" animation at the same time you're wasting time and money. (How's that for synergy!?) So do it. Baffle them with bullshit. Above all, remember, nothing generates buzz like buzzwords.

Buzzwords
Repeat whichever buzzwords and acronyms you've heard in the latest meeting, especially from those one to two levels above you. When possible, try to be wordy (remember: four words good, two words bad) without actually being substantive. In lieu of content, use clichés, big words, and jargon. If you don't know any jargon, make up an acronym.

Acronyms
Everyone loves acronyms. From CEOs to CIOs and CMOs, all the way down the line to VPs. Also, there are some terrific jargon-generators out here if you know where to look. When you are forced to be substantive, be obtuse, and tell folks what they already know. People love re-learning what they already know. It makes them feel smart.

Bullet Lists
At around this point in any newsletter article or presentation, you'll want to include some bullet points:

• People love bullets
• They're like headlines
• That call attention to themselves
• So non-bulleted text can be ignored

There's No "i" in Team
Agree with your boss. They like that. And when your boss asks you to do something, turn around and assign the task to your subordinates. It'll make them feel special, and show your boss what a good designator you are. Designator is a new word. It's like decider.

Troubleshooting
If you're ever asked a question that requires actual thought, have a mental list of go-to words that you feel comfortable with: strategy, function, and execute are great ones to start with. You'll want words that are pretty much interchangeable and can be used to mean anything in any situation. Use them as needed. (Note: They can be especially effective in conjunction with one another.)

Conclusion
So get out there in 2008 and be all you can be — drive the car you aspire to be able to afford. Remember, everyone loves you — especially your boss's assistant. (You could run this whole shebang if you had an assistant like that.) So ramp up your game a notch, execute on strategy, and generate competitive value by leveraging technology to maximize customer take-away.

That said, I'd hate to leave you without an invaluable take-away. So here it is — the PowerPoint presentation....

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How to Travel with Your Significant Other and Not Break Up

Editorial Note: This post was co-written with my wife, AKL.

 

Please — before it’s too late — reconsider that romantic getaway you’ve been planning.

Traveling is devastating for relationships. If you love each other, stay home. Even perfectly functional, happy relationships can be ruined by the wedge issues travel creates for couples. Long-festering personality quirks can suddenly look like deal-breaking character flaws in the bright light of the Caribbean. Or the dingy light of a hotel bar.

We assure you, you’ll be much happier just staying at home and watching other people break up on TV.

Now, if you absolutely must leave home, please take with you our five time-tested survival techniques:

 

Rule #1: Prepare.

Seasoned Euro-traveler Ben Franklin said, “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.” So prepare. Know your itinerary, bring your passport, extra socks, Scooby Snacks with which you can bribe your significant other…. Every trip has its hassles, and the fewer hassles you have, the fewer passive-aggressive “discussions” you’ll have about those hassles.

Also, buy good maps. Nothing can create tension faster than a stupid argument over how to find some hard-to-find landmark.

 

Rule #2: Avoid landmarks.

Landmarks are public places where couples are meant to have “moments.” Do not underestimate the importance of these moments. Try to gauge — or even (gasp!) ask — what the expected highlights of the trip are for your partner. And then try very hard not to screw up those highlights.

There’s a time and a place for everything, and the time and place for a state of the union chat is not at the Louvre or on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower.

In fact, guys, do not under any circumstances go to Paris. Paris is like a wedding (or a funeral); you will never be forgiven for screwing up Paris.

 

Rule #3: Don’t go to bed angry.

This seems simple, but it’s not. Sort out little issues as they pop up during the day rather than giving them a chance to boil over when you’re tired and belligerent with mini-bar purchases.

We call this the “Brady Bunch rule.” No matter how bad things got for the Brady family — be it a surfing accident, a broken nose, or the everyday indignities of being the middle child (“Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!”) — by the end of the episode, all had been worked out and even Jan was happy again. Make bedtime the end of any “episodes.”

 

Rule #4: You’re not connected at the hip.

If you love art and are dying to see Florence’s Uffizi Gallery, but your partner can’t tell a Giotto from a grotto, ditch them for the day. You’ll see and do things on your own that you wouldn’t together (CAUTION! Skip this rule when in Vegas!) and even have something to talk about when you meet up later.

Being apart can also help you put your relationship in perspective. Are you enjoying yourself? Is this really a person with whom you could see yourself growing old? Living without? Is that hot bartender really giving you the eye?

 

Rule #5: The grass is never greener.

On every trip, you will meet exactly one person with whom you would fall madly in love, if not for your significant other. Do not fall in love with this new person.

It will be difficult. You will meet this person on a plane, or a bus, or a trek, or in a bar, or through a friend. The man or woman will come from Australia, or Iceland — an island country full of outgoing people with fabulous hair and supermodel cheekbones. They will be mysterious and have an interesting name and some odd talent. Their name will be Jada or Sven, and they’ll play bass for Bjork. You’ll have fantasies about living in their perfect world, and having transcendent sex and uncomplicated communication.

Remember, like internet Vi@gra! or 99-cent shrimp cocktail, if it looks too good to be true, it is.

Of course, if none of this helps and traveling does destroy your relationship and you ultimately find yourself single, well don’t just sit there and think, “They told me so,” get off your couch and see the world. You can start with Australia or Iceland.