I blame the flight to Ogdensburg. Nothing disastrous happened on the flight itself, but something disastrous definitely happened inside me. Before Ogdensburg, I was a champion flyer. My parents were travelers, for work and for pleasure, and as a small child, I flew with them to London, Vienna, Paris. I can remember peeling back the warm tin foil on meal trays, the different foods tucked into their little compartments, as though made for a child.