A good ballpark. By ballpark, I mean baseball stadium, with the local team in town and playing that night. From single-A minor-league stadiums to Major League Baseball franchises, there is no place like a ballpark. At a ballpark, you have a snapshot of the local customs as well as the comfortable feeling of belonging. From the sights, the sounds, and the smells to the way it makes me feel, there is no place like it. The local flavors come out in these stadiums. At Seattle's Safeco Field, there's the sushi-style Ichiro roll. San Diego offers Riptide Red, a great local microbrew; the Rockies offer Coors Fresh from the Rocky Mountains; and the Anaheim Angels have a great Knothole Club. There is always the old standby - a hot dog and a cold beer - that is offered at any stadium (and a guilty pleasure for me!). … The different songs and sounds from the stadiums ring loud and true. With the game on the line and the closers coming in, San Diego offers "Hells Bells," the Dodgers­ offer "Welcome to the Jungle," and the Mets play "Enter Sandman,"­ each ­electrifying the home crowd to no end. Being away from home is not easy, but when I can attend a baseball game, it lightens the load and takes my mind off work. It makes the trip seem shorter, and it also gives me a reason to travel. - Greg Giraldin,
Ladera Ranch, California

The inside of my suitcase. Whenever I fly in, after checking in to the hotel, wherever it is and at whatever time, the first thing that I find myself doing is opening up my suitcase. … Unzipping the bag and opening it brings out a unique bouquet of aromas that instantly turn an unknown hotel room into something that is almost subconsciously more familiar. There is the chlorine smell of home-washed clothes. The pepperminty and slightly damp smell of the toothpaste that long ago squeezed itself out of my grooming­ kit. The reassuringly familiar smell of leather belts and shoes. The inside of my suitcase, really, is home away from home.
- Jerome Jao, New Rochelle, New York

The cab to the airport. Regardless of how many hundreds upon hundreds of flights I've taken in my lifetime, I am still ­oftentimes giddy with anticipation of my next flight and my upcoming visit to what is still ­frequently a place I've never been to ­before. I think about the pleasantly maddening whirlwind that is the airport, the gleaming airplanes scurrying around the taxiways, and the thousands of travelers trying to get home or to visit a friend or family not seen in a long time. I wonder how the upcoming trip will go, what challenges or unique experiences will occur on this trip, what new sights I may see, what surprising conversation I may have with someone from a far different place than I came from. I think about the sights that I probably never would have seen otherwise, like a dusty ­central square in a small Texas town, the natural beauty of West Virginia, and a thunderstorm rolling across the plains of Nebraska. … I think, too, of the places I've already been because of my frequent work travel, and I'm thankful for the wonderful places I've visited as a road warrior. During my cab ride to the airport, my little corner of Chicago expands to a worldwide opportunity.­ - Mark ­Iammartino, Chicago, Illinois