Preferred mode of travel: I love a train. I can read on a train with little to zero nausea, depending on the source material (ahem, ladies' magazines!), and if I'm particularly bored, I can pretend I'm in an Agatha Christie novel and there's been a MURDER!

Nervous flyer? Yes!

Any techniques for improving our flight experiences: The Klonopin Technique. It's never failed me. 

Favorite short jaunt: Montauk.

Favorite longer vacation: Tuscany.

Favorite escape-the-cold winter jaunt: Maui.

Favorite in-city escape: Get a massage. See two movies in a row. Take the train to the exotic Upper West Side and sample its Chinese Food. 

One place everyone should go: Amsterdam.

Recommended post-breakup trip: Get your social legs back! Social legs is an expression I've just now made up. It's a variant of the term "sea legs," but it's more awkward. Anyway, yes. Go somewhere that you know to have harbored fun and friends in the past, and be the new girl in town for a bit, and watch people flock to your sphere of influence like moths to a moth food-dispensing robot. You don't need a pilgrimage to Eastern Europe, or wherever your distant relatives are from (Belarus-bred Jotkowitzes say 'YEAH'!) You need friends in your face who are thrilled to see you, and can't wait to introduce you around to hungry would-be hookup candidates who are literally dying to meet the out-of-towner with freedom and style to spare. 

Ever travel for work? Traveling for business is mostly all I do, and it's always fun because it's an adventure, and I don't leave my apartment a lot. Don't cry for me! I'm not a creepy hoarder or an obese shut-in. I'm just neurotic and slightly lazy. So when I leave New York, I go to book festivals or meetings in other states, and I know I'm biased because I love what I do, but it's also great to at least pretend that you're on vacation, even if you're there for a reason. As long as I'm in a hotel, I'm excited. I'm like a dog riding in a car with the window down. The appeal of a mini-bar and a magically-made bed will never grow old to me. 

In your carryon: Too many books; like three books, only one of which I end up reading. My laptop and power cord. Some dumb magazines and a copy of the Times. Snacks and gum. Socks, because my feet get cold on the plane. Medication. Do these items make me sound like a 79-year-old Jewish lady? I am kind of a 79-year-old Jewish lady. 

Clothing you can't live without on a trip: Yoga pants from the GAP. They are stretchy and they're black and I swear to God, I would marry them if a state made it legal. (Ahem! Massachusetts! I'm looking in your general direction.)

Exception you make when you travel: My consumption of Combos is completely limited to my time in airports and on planes, I'm semi-proud to report. 

Good reads for the road: Recently, I read two books in their entirety on departing and returning flights to LA; Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man by Bill Clegg, and The Peculiar Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender. They're both page turners. I also read Jennifer Egan's aptly-praised A Visit From The Goon Squad recently, and I took Slaughterhouse Five on a beach vacation. I regret nothing!

Best hotel: I am a big fan of the Sofitel's bedding. 

Meal you would travel for: Giordano's stuffed pizza in Chicago, and the Polonaise Plate at Nye's Polonaise in Minneapolis. 

Do you have a favorite thing you collect when you travel? Memories, obviously. 

Worst travel experience: Anytime you agree to stay with a friend whose place you haven't seen, you're playing Russian Roulette. But instead of being on the business end of a loaded pistol, you're wearing three pairs of pajamas in order to distance yourself--psychologically, at least--from the revolting sensation of sleeping in a stranger's bed, complete with his or her scent, assorted leavings including stray pubic hairs and mysterious stains, and generally tolerated level of cleanliness or filth, depending on your hosts' preference and lifestyle. This is all a fancy way of saying that once I agreed to spend the night in the Catskills at a friend's house, and they put us in a bedroom and I found some stray hairs and bugs in the bedding and lost my mind. We found a Holiday Inn late that night and returned, sheepishly, for early breakfast the following day, never having spoken of it. 

Travel pet peeves: Jerks, in general. Jerks who want to talk to you on the plane. Jerks who are dicks to the staff of places when you're waiting to be rung up, or checked in. Jerks in front of you in traffic. Jerks who won't upgrade you to a nice room when your hotel room has a leak in it that you only noticed after you've unpacked of your stuff. Also, lousy food drives me crazy. But that's true at home as well!