Monday, 1 a.m. I should have been in bed hours ago. Instead, I'm standing over my ZERO Halliburton computer case, wielding a 16-inch butcher knife and looking a bit too much like Jack Nicholson's character in The Shining. My flight to Minneapolis leaves in six hours, and I can't get the damn case to open.

The satin-silver Halliburton, which looks like standard-issue luggage for James Bond, is made of aerospace-quality aluminum - the same material used to build the space shuttle. The case is designed to preserve and protect the most fragile computers from falls, fires, and thunderstorms. Great for my laptop. Not so great for me and my butcher knife.

Just as I'm about to plunge the knife into the case to pry it open, I realize that its overstuffed contents are keeping the lock from releasing. I lean on it and spin the combination lock with the kind of tense anticipation that you'd feel in a game of Russian roulette.

"Pop!" The case opens! I collapse on my couch, exhausted and covered in sweat. After a few minutes, I recheck the Halliburton and head off to bed. Such is the stuff of business travel: I haven't even left town, and already I've had my first panic attack.

At dawn, I'm flying to Minneapolis, where I will talk to a group of dedicated Fast Company readers and meet a few honchos at 3M Corp. There's another reason for this trip: I'm going to subject some of the latest - and, reportedly, greatest - electronic gadgets to a real-world road test.

Most computer-trade magazines use laboratories to test laptops, cell-phones, and other road-warrior gear. Trouble is, people don't work in labs. My mission is to determine whether such gear lives up to its billing. What follows is my first-person account of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs that I experienced on the road (and before I hit it). My hope is that this edition of Powertools will help you avoid a few speed bumps on your next business trip.

Coordinates: $259. ZERO Halliburton computer case, ZERO Halliburton, 800-545-1026, www.zerohalliburton.com

Preflight: Wednesday, 10 a.m.

It's five days until my trip, and I'm frantically tearing open a FedEx package that - fortunately - contains a replacement Compaq C-Series Handheld PC. The C-Series is part of a new digital-presentation solution, dubbed the Personal Presentation System, that bundles the Compaq handheld, an In Focus LP420 projector, an Iomega Clik! drive, and Microsoft Windows CE and Pocket PowerPoint. The result is a compact tool kit that promises to revolutionize life on the road for the mobile presenter. The system weighs less than eight pounds and fits easily into a shoulder bag. And all the components are compatible with one another - which spares me the hassle of buying each gadget separately and wondering whether they'll work together. The Personal Presentation System is by far the most innovative gizmo in my toolbox. It's also the bane of my existence.

I've spent the past two days trying to configure the system, and I feel like a complete techno-illiterate. I can't get my Compaq handheld (the one that was originally shipped to me) to recognize its connection to the PC that I used to create my PowerPoint presentation. After endless calls to a polite but baffled tech-support guy at Compaq, I finally decided that it was time to try a new unit.