I’m all charged up and ready to go – sort of. I’ve got all the modern gadgetry to make my life so much easier, and it’s stressing me to high heaven.

These days there is an expectation that people should be easily accessible, 24/7. It’s an adjustment for me, and I’ve noticed that with the changing times, bathroom breaks and coffee breaks have a new look. I holster my Blackberry to the waistband of my pants. This way, it doesn’t interfere with bending over, or the swing of the arm. So what’s another bulge in the back area?

After gathering all my necessary travel accessories and carry-on luggage from the security clearance at the jetport, I go about reassembling myself. Grey plastic bins stacked, shoes on, Blackberry on my behind, I’m good to go. After completing that whole ordeal, I realize I now have time to wait: an hour, in fact. Before I get another cup of coffee, I decide to take a bathroom break.

So, I wheel my carry-on, briefcase, and all my belongings into the tiny stall of the ladies bathroom, as the ongoing announcement sounds throughout the airport: no baggage should be left unattended. Not a problem – me and my luggage are getting cozy in the bathroom stall.

Ever mindful that my Blackberry is hooked to my pants, I envision the unthinkable: forgetting it’s there and having it fall into the toilet! But that won’t happen yet – my Blackberry hasn’t become a natural appendage of my very being. It’s hardly a part of me, and I’m struggling to work it into my life. But looking around the airport, I notice these Blackberry’s are essentials people seemingly can’t live without. And then, I visualize, what that would mean, if their whole life were to fall into the toilet!

I carefully take my Blackberry from the holster of my waistband, and take my seat on the toilet. It’s cramped in there, as my carry-on bumps up to my now bent knee, my Blackberry now hooked to my purse, hangs from the hook. But I have finally gotten down to business, and I chuckle at the complication now involved in doing something that is so natural – while I’m surrounded by a pile of luggage (or shall I say, baggage).

Just as I adapt to this new life of business travel, I’m pushed to yet another level. The Blackberry rings – somebody is calling me. There’s a conflict. Nature has called too. I reach for the phone, and extend my greetings from the bathroom stall of the Portland Jetport. This better be important, I think.

And to the caller on the other end, it was important. But as I size up the whole situation, I shake my head. It’s not so easy to go to the bathroom these days. Other pressing matters seem to ask: Can you hold it a little longer. As I fumble about precariously in the over-crowded space knowing that a line has formed outside the stall, I finally ask, “May I put you on hold for a moment, so that I may pull up my pants?”

I emerge from the stall with the phone resting on my shoulder, a suitcase in tow, a pocketbook on one shoulder, and a brief case on the other, and my holster back at my waistband. I make it a few feet, to wash my hands. I take a look in the mirror and see a frazzled wreck – it’s 7 a.m., and I look like I’ve been working all day. I reach for my hairbrush and lipstick, and attempt to give myself the “got-my-act-together” look as I end the phone call.

Next stop: coffee. I hook my briefcase to the top of my wheeled carry-on, and free up a hand to carry my coffee. Making my way to the gate area, I find a seat. I notice an intense world around me – cell phone conversations, Blackberries – a world tending to seemingly urgent matters.

With my luggage by my side, I sip. I feel a vibration on my backside. An e-mail has arrived on my Blackberry. I reach around, and give it a glance. Do I really want to type a response on that tiny key pad or can it wait? I turn off my Blackberry, stalling the communication process, I feel nostalgic: What happened to the classic bathroom and coffee breaks?