Darlings, I'm back. Fabulous, fabulous details abut my fabulous fabulous trip to follow, but for right now, let me cut to the bad news: traveling in other locales is great; traveling to them sucks. Especially on United. Should you have a choice between them and walking barefoot to your destination, let me weigh in strongly for the latter.
Our trip home was supposed to take about five hours yesterday. I got home this evening, 28 hours after I left our dear Diane von Austinburg's embrace. We managed to get all the way to just above San Francisco Bay about the same time as a huge storm. The airport closed all but one runway which meant we circled around the Bay Area and other, less charming counties for two hours before we finally got our chance to take a crack at landing. That's when our plane WAS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING.
I didn't know that even happened except in disaster movies. Abort landing! Divert to Sacramento! Strand mrpeenee there so he has to spend the night in a very odd hotel and then take the train, a subway, and a bus to get home the next day!
I entertained myself at odd moments throughout the day battling with the evil United Airlines about the possibility of being reunited with my baggage, which apparently was meandering about Northern California in a carefree sort of way I can only envy. I finally wound up driving out to the airport here to retrieve it.
No wonder people turn into shut-ins. Right now it seems like a very attractive proposition. But I'm back and there have been times over the last day and a half when that seemed pretty unlikely so, you know, yay and all that.