This is the Captain's log

New York was great. Once I got there.

Flying when the terror alert has been raised is not fun, although it results in a series of emotions (in approximate order). Stress at the prospect of missing one's second flight. Mirth at the realization that one isn't allowed hand lotion in one's carry-on bag, but that the (small but deadly scissors) that are part of the knitting kit are OK. Relief not to be flying with small or elderly persons (although it would have been nice to have a peer to hold one's place in line while one waited two and a half hours to get through security). Pride at being adult enough to maneuver through the /system/ and get to one's final destination on the same day one had planned (also sneaking suspicion that luck has a great deal to do with it). Further relief because one is on the same plane as one's own luggage (the suit! the shoes!). Slight guilt about sneaking lipstick past the kindly older security guard who pointed at my shoes and called me /princess/. (Little does he know!) Extreme hunger - a girl needs more than an Americano and a pumpkin scone to get through a day. (And yes, I do know how many calories are in a pumpkin scone. So past the point of caring by then, and it was only noon.) General bemusement to be diverted 200 miles northeast to check out Maine when the airspace over JFK is /saturated/. Further bemusement (clearly delirium is setting in at the 15th hour of consciousness and the 8th hour on the plane) at having to land in Hartford to re-fuel. Irrational ability to continue to seek and find the silver lining and inability to stop sharing it with seatmate, who has been separated from his luggage and is rapidly descending into counter-productive but completely understandable anger at American Airlines for refusing to help him find his luggage, which they have transported to JFK, simply because he ended up flying Delta. Irrational fury at a family at baggage claim - 10 year old son chasing 3 year old daughter around and around the epically unmoving baggage carousel, causing her to scream repeatedly, as parents looking on and smile (clearly blood sugar hit an all time low).

Simple appreciation for the silence of the cab driver on the trip from JFK to Soho, and for the friend who waited up. And for the parentheses that make it all possible.