Dear Travelers,

I must apologize, for it is I who caused the eruption of the Frjeosoyzxxxhjorn volcano.

You see, going back to the 90s, I have always had an international travel jinx. While my many advertising colleagues have enjoyed meetings in Toronto, commercial shoots in Portugal, focus groups in Argentina, award show judging in the south of France, and miscellaneous conferences across Europe, I have never once employed a passport on company business.

The shoot would be canceled at the last minute, the client would leave, the project would be pulled – you name it. If there was even a chance of me getting out of the country on someone else’s dime you could pretty much guarantee that it would go away.

It became a joke at my offices: Oh wait, Liz is going on that trip? Not gonna happen.

But this time, this was different.

This time our shoot was scheduled for Prague. Our airline tickets booked. Our hotels secured, and our dinner reservations confirmed. And of course, my child care for the next 8 days covered as Nate beg his chefs for daytime hours, grandparents step up, and sitters agree to take on the noon to midnight shifts. I grappled with the leaving the kids for a week thing, came to terms with it, and even allowed myself to start getting excited.

We fly out tomorrow.

Or not.

Probably not.

Because I made the Fjyhssfollnuuplxxyk volcano happen.

So really, to everyone who’s been stranded away from their families or their work, or God forbid stuck in Newark for the last several days: I have to step up and take the blame.

I’m terribly, terribly sorry.