I recently traveled many thousands of miles to attend a college roommate's wedding in Hawaii. For several reasons—the over-the-top destination, the formal toast I was slated to give, my all-but-unprecedented approval of a friend's choice of groom—I decided to splurge on a new dress for the occasion. The simple silk sheath that I bought was perfect: For once, I would look just right.

Except for one thing: My suitcase's contents really did shift while in flight. I mention this because, to my mother's lifelong anguish, I've never been a great believer in garment bags (or umbrellas or hair dryers). And when I opened my suitcase, I was horrified to find my beautiful dress crumpled beyond recognition.

The concierge regretted to inform me that the hotel offered no garment-fres

Sleep and I have an awkward, on-again, off-again relationship. I'm slow to fall asleep, quick to wake up, and picky about my bed. Like most people, a night of bad snoozing inevitably ruins my day. That goes double during the holiday season, when I travel between friends and family, sleeping on their pull-out couches, floors, extra beds, and air mattresses.

Oh, the air mattresses. They bring up such painful memories—like the time when, as a college student between apartments, I spent a month sleeping on one. But I had to overcome my bitterness toward them recently, when my boyfriend and I moved into our tiny one-bedroom apartment. We bought a couch, some kitchen stuff, a coffee table, and, for my boyfriend, a Nintendo Wii. As friends and family begin to visit, however, it became

Two years ago, on a reporting assignment, a small TV crew and I were shacked up in a houseboat near the Rio Negro in Brazil, when it rained. I have never in my life been so thankful to be near a portable DVD player. There are only so many games of spades in a deck of cards, and even a bunch of Arkansas boys run out of Aggie jokes eventually. When a cameraman plugged his player into the TV, we were able to leave the Amazon basin for the dustscapes of Blazing Saddles and The Outlaw Josey Wales. And—notably, after 10 days of sharing cramped rooms and tiny boats—no one murdered anyone. Well, except Clint Eastwood.

I haven't run aground anywhere so remote since, but this year I will have visited something like 30 states and provinces, mostly in service of writing about sports and t

With Christmas less than two weeks away, millions are beginning to rue their procrastinatory ways. With nary a gift purchased, panicked shoppers are often tempted to take the easy way out with gift cards, neckties, and bottles of cheap perfume. Such presents might technically fulfill your holiday obligations, but they're unlikely to score you much love: Don't expect any impromptu lingerie shows, for example, if you plan on giving your girlfriend an oven mitt.

Lucky for you, magazines are bursting with gift ideas. In an editorial ritual seemingly as old as Good King Wenceslas, glossies festoon their December pages with products that will allegedly make your friends and family swoon with glee. The key word, though, is allegedly—some inevitably disappoint by suggesting presents tha