So, we finally get into Newark at about 6:10, and my flight out of Newark, from a completely different terminal is at 7:00, all of which means I have to hurry. So I’m completely booking through Newark, dressed like a Mongol raiders, sweaty, unshaven, reeking of airline peanuts, and flying on nothing but caffeine and my boundless rage. So first there’s a big hold up even getting the baggage off of the plane and I’m just standing there, watching the precious seconds slip past like some kind of thing that slips past some other thing, until finally my bags show up, after which point I get into a lengthy and heated altercation with Manny, the vicious baggage gnome who wants to eat my shoes or ship me to Houston or something. All I know for sure is that he’s very short, very bald, and very shrill, and that never have I more missed the quaint charms of Virginia than at this instant.

And of course, at every point along the way here, my somewhat manic and extremely odd appearance is making every possible security obstacle in my path into a veritable morass of confusion and wasted time. Then of course, I have to catch a monorail all the way across Newark while sharing a car with no one save for an elderly Asian man who keeps looking at me the whole time like he expects me to zark out and conquer him, which I, considerate even in extremity, refrain from doing. And my luggage is already in the system, so I need to catch the plane now more than ever, lest my suitcase find itself alone in Dulles like Babe, Pig in the City or something, so my mad dash continues, much like Lola’s, in that movie where she runs a lot, only I’m pretty sure that even if I miss my flight, nobody is going to be gunned down by the cops after robbing a German grocery store. Still, better to be safe and not risk it.

Finally, I get to the gate, ticket in hand with what is, I might add, a fairly impressive margin of time in my favor, come running up to the ticketmeister, and learn that the flight has been delayed for an hour anyway. Which is still waaaay better than missing it, especially because over the next 20 minutes, people keeps running in all freaked out because the think they’ve missed their flight, while I’m sitting there boldly feigning calmness and collectitude, sipping my preposterous airport beverage of choice (a viente jamocha carmel latte) and pretending that I know what’s going on while laughing with dark and inner fiendish glee because I beat them all there and, had there actually been a plane leaving, I would have been the only guy on it. Kudos to me. So, in brief, Newark is no longer the capricious mistress of my heart, that honor now being reserved for ham danishes and Lt. Uhura.

Okay, so now our plane has been delayed because there’s primordial muck on the DC runway, which means that now our plane won’t even be getting here until 9:00, which is a less than completely thrilling development, but okay, because at least it’s finally on the way here.

Okay, 9:15, and I am on a tiny plane bound for DC. Really tiny, like flying on a school bus with wings and less headroom. So tiny that instead of a jet engine, it runs off of a rather large rubber band and happy thoughts. Half the people on this place have both a window seat and an aisle seat, so tiny is it. It is very tiny. Even the Wright brothers would be put off by it’s utter minisculity. Very small. Also, I have now been continuously wearing my pajamas under my clothes for three days now, ever since we left Mongolia. Just in case you were curious about that. So, back to the smallness of our plane; if the engine failed, we could all just roll our windows down, put our arms out, and flap furiously, and the plane would likely stay airborne.

9:50, we’re up at last, hurtling along at a speed almost certainly in excess of 40mph. It is very dark and rainy outside, and our plane remains very tiny (in case you thought it was made out of the same stuff as those rubber dinosaurs that grow when you put them in the water).

Well, here I am again back in Virginia, home safe and sound, very, very tired, but still very much alive. I’ll start posting normal stuff again (normal being a highly relative term) on Monday, meanwhile, I’m going to sleep and hope I don’t dream of Tom Hanks.