Hello,
Here's a journal for your enjoyment (or horror) of my trip home that I
wrote while on the plane. I thought it would be easier than telling
the sordid tale over and over.
Happy reading,
David
======================
--------------------
AUGUST 18TH
--------------------
The last day of a wonderful two-week visit to Scandinavia. Jen and I
called in the afternoon to confirm my flight from Stockholm to Newark
airport, only to learn that the flight had been cancelled due to
"technical difficulties." Something to do with the computer tracking
system that told the airplane where to go.
The telephone rep. rebooked me on flights from Stockholm to
Copenhagen, and then from Copenhagen to Newark. With my original
reservation, I had 5 hours and 40 minutes to make the connection in
Newark to San Francisco. The new arrangement meant I would have to fly
out of Stockholm at 7:10 am instead of 10:20, but I was scheduled to
land in Newark only an hour later than originally planned, so that
seemed okay.
Jennifer and I congratulated ourselves on catching the problem early.
--------------------
AUGUST 19TH
--------------------
I barely slept that night, which is normal for me before a big flight.
Then, at 4:30 in the morning, Jen and I got up to dress and get
ourselves o the airport. Check in was smooth. We said our goodbyes at
the gate (Jen was going back to London for a week before coming home)
and I boarded the flight from Stockholm to Copenhagen. It was an early
flight, but uneventful.
-----
When I landed in Copenhagen, I had to wait two hours in the gate area
for the Newark flight information to appear on the departure screen.
When it finally did, the screen said, "Scheduled time: 12:20. Expected
time: 13:00." I asked a clerk at the information desk to make sure
that the "expected time" was a revised scheduled time for take-off.
Yup. So I did the math in my head, and realized that I would still
have nearly four hours to make my connection in Newark. Okay.
-----
Now I had basically another hour to burn. I wandered into different
shops all around the terminal. I kept walking past this strange kiosk
over and over, where a woman just stood there staring at a large
screen on the wall and looking completely bored and uncomfortable.
After the fourth or fifth wander past, I asked her what she was doing.
She was there to demo a computerized display system at the kiosk
(connected to that large screen), but unfortunately the demo wasn't
even working. She had been there since 7 am, just standing around and
doing her best to answer people's questions when they wandered by
thinking she was airport information. She wasn't even allowed to sit
down.
We commiserated about our exhaustion levels, and I helped her answer
airport information question, as I had now wandered all around the
airport and knew it quite well, and besides I really had nothing
better to do.
-----
Soon I was bored, so I went to the Scandinavian Airlines (SAS)
Transfer Center to ask them if it was possible for them to check me
into my United Airlines flight from Newark ahead of time. I was
starting to feel a little bit of a time squeeze, and I figured this
should be easy for them to do since SAS and United are both "Star
Alliance" partners. The woman at the desk was taking anyone who
stepped up, despite the fact that many of us were following the
clearly posted directions and taking a number. Finally I got annoyed
with this, so I walked up and gently asked if she were actually using
the ticket numbers or not. She said, "of course," and then she started
using them finally.
Eventually it was my turn. The woman was actually very friendly and
happy to check me through to SFO. That is, until she learned that my
SAS reservation was different from my United reservation (we had to
make separate reservations because the flight from SFO to Newark -
well, to JFK actually, but that's another story - was purchased using
frequent flier miles. Good old United. Since the SAS and United
flights weren't really connected, she couldn't do anything for me, and
said I needed to deal with it when I landed.
-----
I wandered around through a few more stores, and then back to the
non-functioning kiosk to hang out for a while and wait. After about an
hour of this, I looked up at the departures screen and saw that my
expected departure time was changed to 15:00 (that's 3pm for those
that don't do the 24-hour clock thing). Now I was not at all sure of
making my connection in Newark. Because of the new security issues,
people were told to show up to the check-in at least 2 1/2 hours
before take-off. I now would have to get my bags from baggage claim
when I landed, get through customs, carry my bags from the
international terminal to the domestic one, check in, get my bags
checked scanned, go through the new obscenely heightened "liquid
proof" security, and make it to my gate, and I figured I would have
about an hour and a half to do this.
-----
So back I went to the Transfer Center, and grabbed my number ticket.
This time there were about 70 semi-freaked people waiting in line, and
still only one person at the desk helping. Eventually another clerk
showed up, and then one more, but they all worked at a somewhat
leisurely pace. The departures screen now indicated that mine was one
of about seven or eight delayed flights.
After about 45 minutes, I got to the front and talked to a new desk
person. I explained that I was worried I would miss my connection.
She said not to worry because SAS automatically reschedules
connections when you miss one due to a delay or cancellation. I told
her my United flight had a different reservation number. Oh, then I
should worry, she said. There was still nothing that she could do
about it at her end, however. She tried to check me in to my United
flight, but failed. Sorry, she said, and handed me a meal voucher for
75 kroner (about 11 dollars).
-----
Back to the info-but-not-really girl. I asked her if she was about to
access the internet from her non-functioning kiosk. She said no, but
pointed me to some nearby stations that took credit cards. I logged
onto one, and send emails to Jen and Joe (who was supposed to pick me
up that night in SFO), and also one to Jen's friend Nina in London, in
case Jen didn't check her email before they got together that day.
Then I went to look for food. 75 kr. doesn't get you very far in an
airport, and I didn't have any more money on hand (I had a few Swedish
kroner, but of course they don't accept them in a Danish airport), but
I managed to find a cafĂ that sold 2 pieces of pizza and a medium soda
for 55. What a deal! Throw in a bottle of water fo 20, and I had it
on the nose. The pizza was pretty mediocre, but at least I was full.
-----
A little more wandering. Through the toy store, the souvenir shop
(with these awful "little mermaid" replicas - not the Disney one, for
those who don't know Copenhagen - of course while I was laughing at
them in my mind a little girl came over an grabbed one to buy), and
back into the bookstore. I found a sudoku book that I was tempter to
buy - it had 4 x 4 x 4 puzzles, and lots of unusual shapes that you
had to apply sudoku rules to. But really, I think sudoku is something
that just sucks up time I could use for writing. So I passed.
I also couldn't help glancing up at all of the porn magazines on the
racks every time I walked by them. In the US, these magazines are all
shrink-wrapped for your protection. Here, they were out an available
for your perusal. I felt a little embarrassed for lingering on them,
and then angry at myself for being embarrassed. How am I supposed to
be an empowered, fully realized man when I get embarrassed about being
turned on by naked women? I made myself take a magazine down and flip
through it, despite having two old ladies standing nearby. Then,
because I just flipped through and put it back as quickly as possible,
I got annoyed with myself, and made myself take another and flip
through it more slowly. First time I've ever read porn for personal
therapy.
-----
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, waiting for my 3 o'clock flight. Well,
eventually the time came to go to the gate. It was, as it turned out,
on the exact opposite end of the terminal. Nice of them to wait so
long to tell me. It turned out to only be about a 10-minute walk,
though. Not too bad. Midway through there was a passport check for no
apparent reason, although in retrospect I think it might have been
because I was hanging out in the EU-only section of the terminal and
was passing into the truly international part. It was a pretty
perfunctory passport check, followed by a less perfunctory hand
luggage scan. Having made it past that, I went to the gate, where I
discovered a very long, very slow-moving queue. It seems they needed
to do another passport check (less formal this time) and another
carry-on scan (more thorough this time) before letting us into the
gate waiting area.
So I finally got in, and sat down next to the guy who was behind me in
line. I asked him if he thought we would really go out at 3:00. He
was skeptical. I got up to use the bathroom and, on the way back, on
a whim, I asked the gate attendant if he could possibly check me onto
the United flight. I was doubtful, as was he, but he decided to make
the attempt. He actually unbooked me from my current flight,
temporarily, and then attempted to check me all the way through to
SFO. Unfortunately, the system could only provide me with the same
SAS boarding pass. Oh well. I then asked him when the flight would be
expected to arrive. He checked the computer and said 5 pm. Well, I
thought, it would be awfully tight, but as long as nothing else went
wrong, I might actually make my connection. Dared I hope?
-----
Uh, no. At about 2:45, the expected departure time changed to 15:15.
This made sense, I thought, given the long line of people who still
hadn't cleared security. However the screen also said, "Await info."
At 3:30, one of the airline reps came on the com and said that we were
going to have to wait five minutes more for an update. Then, at 3:45
he came on again, and profusely apologized as he explained that our
delay was originally due to traffic problems, but that additional
mechanical issues had since come up, which finally proved to be too
much for the ground mechanics to resolve. So we were changing to a new
plane, which was still on its way to the Copenhagen airport from
Japan. He did not know which gate the new flight would leave from,
but he did give us a new projected departure time: 18:30.
Fuck! I had now been sitting in the Copenhagen airport for over 6
hours already, and had at least 3 hours to go. I could have gone into
the city (only 15 minutes away) and had a wonderful time wandering
around. I could have called our new friend who lives there and had
lunch with her. I could have...then my brain caught up with my new,
undeniable reality. There was no way I would possibly make my
connection in Newark.
-----
We were asked to wait for 15 minutes while some SAS reps ran to the
Transfer Center for more meal vouchers. Eventually they returned, and
we were each handed a 100 kr. voucher and sent back into the main part
of the terminal. Of course this meant that I had to again go through
passport control and security (got my passport stamped this time -
welcome to Denmark!).
Knowing I would definitely miss my connection in Newark, I went
straight to the Transfer Center. The queue was shorter this time, and
it only took me about 10 minutes to see someone. I asked if they
could possibly help me to contact United Airlines to tell them I was
going to miss my flight. This new woman at the desk told me not to
worry, because the system would automatically alert United about my
delay. So then I had to explain to her about my separate
reservations. She asked for my SAS boarding pass and looked me up in
the computer. Lo and behold, my SAS booking now showed the United
flight also. I guess the man at the gate did something after all.
I had no idea how this was going to affect my actual mileage plus
reservation, but this was clearly all the help I was going to get from
the Transfer Center on this visit. Feeling frustrated, I asked her if
I was supposed to receive a meal voucher for my additional wait. She
conferred with another rep, then handed me a slip with a 150 kr.
credit on it. Whoopie! If they were going to keep me there all day,
maybe I could nickel and dime them to death.
-----
Now it was back to the pay-as-you-go computers, where I shot off new
emails to Jen and Joe. At this point I was resigned to spending the
night in Newark, and just hoping it wouldn't take me the entire night
to get there. That done, it was off to spend my vouchers. This time I
had a little more to spend, so I was pickier about my choice of
restaurants. I found a nice-looking tapas place, with a full selection
of vegetarian tapas for a combined price of 149 kr. I sat down,
waited patiently for service, and ordered. When the food came, it was
surprisingly good - roasted potatoes, asparagus, beets, plum compote,
some raviolis - all quite tasty. Satisfied, I went to the bookstore to
see what I could buy with my 100 kr. voucher. I couldn't make up my
mind, and I had to pee, so I left to find a bathroom.
-----
Coming out of the bathroom, I heard an announcement on the com that I
was wanted again in the Transit Center. So off I went for the - what -
fourth? Fifth time? I took another number and got to the desk pretty
quickly. I was shuffled over to a woman with a list, who wanted me to
stay in a hotel in Copenhagen overnight, and then put me on a plane to
Frankfurt in the morning, where they would connect me directly to SFO.
I was so tired I almost said yes. But then I realized that my bags
would still probably go to Newark (since they definitely were not
checked through to SFO), and I needed to be there to get them or they
might be lost for good.
The woman assured me that SAS would get my bags to me. I told her I
didn't want to take the chance, and would wait out my current flight.
I also couldn't help noticing that there were now fifteen flights (I
counted) on the departures board that were either delayed or
cancelled. I didn't expect things to be any better the next day.
The woman had already started the paperwork on my rebooking even
before she had spoken with me, so at this point I really had no idea
if my bags were going to be on the plane, or if they had already been
pulled and would be kept in Copenhagen overnight. She couldn't tell
me herself, so I had to just hope that, in the chaos of the day, any
half-processed order to pull bags would be lost or ignored. I grabbed
my boarding pass and left.
-----
At this point, the departure screens indicated that I should head for
the new gate and prepare to board. So off I went. Realizing along the
way that I still had my voucher (and determined to squeeze every penny
- er, kroner - out of this ordeal), I ducked into a newspaper stand
and grabbed the first things that caught my eyes and interest. A
Playboy magazine and two packs of Menthos. I want to call it more
therapy, but really it was just a spiteful desire to spend the
airline's money on something that it was absolutely not intended for.
I stuffed the items in my pack and hurried on to the gate.
-----
It turned out that I needn't have rushed. The longest line was at the
good old passport and security check, but even that went pretty
quickly. The scanning station at the gate was so efficient that I was
able to walk right up and put my bag through without standing in line
at all. I found a place to sit at the gate and waited. I couldn't
help noticing as I sat that there were several people with bottles of
water and juice. One mother had five half-empty bottles for her five
very amped-up children. So much for the new, anti-terrorist "no
liquids" rule.
At about 6:20 there was an announcement that - gasp - boarding would
begin in about 10 minutes. I joined the shuffle of people lining up
and, having chosen my seat well, managed to get myself pretty close to
the front of the line. Of course, since people with children get to
board first, those people pushed themselves to the front, and soon I
was surrounded by several exhausted and/or sugared-up kids, including
the five bottle wielders who proceeded to play "chase and scream"
until the game finally ended with a boy of about four tripping
head-first into a wall, whereupon I discovered that yes, he could in
fact scream even louder.
A few minutes later the same person got on the speaker system and
announced that the flight was overbooked - not surprising with all of
the people like me being shunted from cancelled flights - and that
they would offer a voucher worth 600 euros on any future SAS flight to
10 people who were willing to wait until the next day to fly. At this
point I considered my options again, mildly amused/annoyed that I
wasn't offered the 600 euros before at the Travel Center. Then I
thought about the insanely long next day of travel such a change would
require, not to mention the whole baggage concern, and realized I just
wanted to get to Newark that night.
So I stayed in line, and so did pretty much everyone else. We were
all in our enclosed space and, with the press of bodies and the
unusually high Copenhagen heat, the air was pretty stifling. Airplane
maintenance people kept going in and out of the sliding metal gate
doors, giving us a tantalizingly brief gasp of fresh air, but no
further information. One of them went out the wrong door, setting off
security alarms, and I had visions of us all being moved out of the
gate area, but fortunately this didn't happen.
At one point, someone in the throng we called a line asked a
maintenance person if the door could be left open to get more air in.
The maintenance person smiled, but did nothing. Maybe he just didn't
speak English. Yeah, right. Even the dogs in Copenhagen spoke
English.
-----
At about 7:00, we were finally allowed on the plane. I had requested
a window seat, hoping I could lean against the wall to sleep. I was
disappointed to discover that this seat was also slightly narrower
than the one next to it, and had a metal box taking up half of the
foot room. Fortunately I was at least able to grab some extra pillows
and make myself more or less comfortable.
The Head Flight Attendant, or "Purser" as they are called in Europe,
came on the plane's com system and introduced himself and the crew.
Then he apologized profusely for everything we had all been through
today. He and the others, and the plane of course, had been scheduled
to go to Singapore. No doubt the people on that flight were now
stranded in Copenhagen. Oh well. The purser said that we could
expect to take off within 10 minutes.
-----
Ah yes, the infinitely famous "10 minutes." Somewhere I'll bet you
there's a memo to George W. from Karl Rove saying, "this Iraq thing
will be in and done in 10 minutes."
Half an hour later, the flight attendants were counting seats with
worried looks on their faces. Passengers were paged. Heads were
scratched. Then the purser came on the com again. He apologized even
more. Apparently, when our flight was moved to the new plane,
passengers and baggage were just transferred without any sort of
rebooking. This would have been fine, except that the new plane was a
different model, and had a different configuration than the first one.
The head counts between baggage and the ticket check-in didn't match.
They counted and recounted heads. They had everyone pull out IDs and
boarding passes. They paged more passengers. All the while, the
purser was going on and off the com with more apologies. This was
just the way it was in the new age of security, he said. Bags had to
match passengers exactly or the plane couldn't take off. If this was
10 years ago - "we'd still be here," a passenger quipped. No one
laughed.
-----
Eventually it was all sorted out, but in the process they determined
that, because of the new seat configuration, there were actually four
seats with no one in them. This was unconscionable, they felt, given
that they had overbooked the flight. So they paged the passengers in
the terminal who had elected to stay the night, to find four who
wanted to board. The purser apologized again and again. In his 35
years with SAS, he had never seen anything like this. He was
embarrassed and ashamed to be wearing an SAS uniform at that moment.
It took half an hour for them to track four passengers down and get
their bags aboard. Part of the problem, the purser said
apologetically, was that a fire had somehow started in some part of
the terminal, and there was some trouble getting the attention of
airline employees due to this and other emergencies.
Thankfully they managed, and we didn't all unload the airplane because
of the fire, which could easily have happened. It seems ridiculous to
unload a plane full of safe people when it's the terminal itself
that's on fire, but at that point nothing would have surprised me. As
I said, though, it didn't happen, and at 8:47 pm, we were finally
airborne.
-----
The flight itself was basically uneventful, or so it seemed from my
perspective. The purser kept coming on with announcements about this
or that, all laced with multiple apologies. Finally I wrote him a
note that said how much I appreciated his willingness to take
responsibility for our ordeal (a quality sorely lacking in US airline
service) and also how I recognized that really none of our situation
was personally his fault, and he was just doing the best he could
under the circumstances. I suggested that perhaps it was okay now for
him to stop apologizing, leave the past to the past, and simply
concentrate on making the flight an enjoyable one, as I was also
trying to do.
I ended by thanking him and his crew for getting us up in the air at
long last. I just signed with my seat number and passed it to one of
the flight attendants that happened by, but he came by later and
thanked me for the letter. He said he had posted it in the crew area
and it had really made them all feel better about the situation.
So that was good. I also noticed that he stopped apologizing, except
for one time when the movie system malfunctioned and he had to reset
it. I watched "A Few Good Men." That Aaron Sorkin can really write.
-----
We hit some kind of storm coming into the States and had a few
stomach-churning drops, the worst - of course - at the end when I
really had to pee. But we managed to land safely, at about 11:15 or
11:30. I raced to the bathroom, then got through passport control
without a hitch and made my way to baggage claim. It was a very long
wait.
While I was there, the purser came by. I congratulated him on getting
us in safely. He thanked me again for my positive attitude, and then
confided that, during the worst of the storm we passed through, the
plane was probably hit by lightning. He said it was going to be
carefully inspected before being allowed to fly again. Then he left,
and soon after - yay! - my bags arrived.
-----
I thought about putting the bags on a baggage cart to take them out of
the terminal. One was a duffel bag which had wheels but was
incredibly awkward. The other was a way-overstuffed garment bag. I
almost paid for the cart, but couldn't bring myself to spend $3 on
something that should really be free (like it is everywhere in
Europe), especially in light of all of the time and money I had
already spent trying to get home.
So I carried my bags through the terminal to the SAS customer service
desk to see about a hotel and flight for the next day. When I got to
that desk, there were a few empty cards sitting around. Yes! Finally
a break. Things were looking up.
In typical New York fashion, the woman at the counter was much more
interested in complaining about her problems than hearing any of mine
(she was going on 12 straight hours at that desk). However she
quickly got me settled in a nearby Marriott hotel and booked me on my
choice of flights for the morning. I couldn't stomach anything before
8 am (the only morning United flight was at 6:30), so she put me on a
Continental flight going out at 8:40.
She also asked me if I planned to have dinner that night. I looked at
my watch - after midnight - grimaced and said not likely. Oh well,
she said, putting back the larger of the two SAS meal vouchers she had
pulled out. Damn. I would have caught that if I had been more awake.
I asked her if I could at least have the $25 voucher for breakfast
instead of the $15 one. She said sure.
-----
Heading for the train that would take me to the shuttle that would
take me to the hotel, I realized that I would still have to be at the
airport at least 2 1/2 hours before my flight to make sure I got on,
especially since others were being shifted onto the same overbooked
flights, and Newark is notoriously crazy even under the best of
circumstances. So that meant I was going to get about - sigh - four
and a half hours of sleep, even with the later departure time. I
might as well have taken the earliest flight and stayed at the airport
all night.
But I had made my choice, and at 12:35 I hobbled into the Marriott and
handed the desk clerk my voucher. And the desk clerk said, "Oh shit.
Another voucher? We just turned two away. SAS only booked 25 rooms
with us and we're all sold out." I pleaded with the guy, but he said
there was nothing he could do. I was about to throw the tantrum of my
life right there in the hotel lobby, when miraculously, the supervisor
who had overheard our conversation told the clerk to give me a room.
Which he did, no problem! "Non-smoking okay with you sir?" Did he
have another room if I wanted smoking? I didn't understand, but I
didn't ask. Two more people with vouches came in after me, and I
think I heard the supervisor calling SAS as I gratefully headed to my
room.
When I got there, I couldn't find the bed. I saw a desk, a TV, a
bathroom, a couch - uh oh, did they expect me to sleep on the couch? -
and a large closet against one wall. Finally I opened the closet, and
a queen-sized hide-a-bed nearly fell on top of me. I have never seen
one of those in a hotel room in my life, and never expect to again.
It was soft enough, though. A quick phone call to Joe to give him the
new flight info, and I hit the bed just before one o'clock.
--------------------
AUGUST 20TH (actually, it was already the 20th for an hour before I
went to bed, and 10 hours before that in Stockholm, where I started)
--------------------
At 4:45 the wake up call rang, and I bolted upright like a
jack-in-the-box. I had asked for a 4:45 call when I checked in, and
then reconsidered in the room and used the system to change it to
5:15. I guess the desk overrode the system. Oh well, I was up. I
quickly got dressed, and headed downstairs to check out and catch the
shuttle. After paying the phone bill ($12.40 for less than three
minutes on the phone!!) I saw that I had five minutes before the
shuttle left, so I ran into the "business center" and emailed Jen a
very short note. Then it was back to the beautiful Newark airport.
-----
The line literally had five hundred people in it. I couldn't believe
it. Suddenly, being there, 3 1/2 hours early didn't seem like such a
bad idea. I have to give it to the Continental desk staff, though;
they blasted through that line in under 45 minutes. Before I knew it
(well, not quite, but pretty darn quickly), I was being checked in.
Since I now had more than 2 1/2 hours to wait for my flight, I asked
if I could possibly get put on something earlier. All flights being
overbooked, this didn't get me anywhere, but it probably did get me
flagged for security, because when I got to the screening area I was
taken aside and I and my bag were thoroughly searched for explosives.
They were patting things, opening things, rubbing things with cloths
and running the cloths through machines. They were polite, though, and
it was over quickly, and then I was in the gate area.
-----
I wandered around for a bit, looking for a good place to eat. At
first I only saw bars, and places selling nuts and candy. Then a
couple of coffee shops. Then, at the end of the terminal, near my
gate, were two places that sold pancake-and-egg breakfasts. Neither
looked very good, but... halleluiah! There in front of me was a
smoothie vendor, with Cliff bars, muffins, croissants, veggie booty,
Neuman's Own chocolate peppermint cups and more. I calculated how much
I could squeeze out of my $25 voucher and started grabbing stuff.
Halfway through my order, I asked what my total was, and showed the
vendor my voucher. He looked at me like I had just sprouted a third
arm, and said he didn't know what that piece of paper was. He
certainly wasn't going to accept it for the food. Aaugh!
I left the food on the counter, and went around to the other vendors.
No one would accept an SAS voucher. Finally someone suggested I go to
the Continental desk and see if I could trade it in for one of their
vouchers. I went there, and the woman at the desk explained that the
SAS vouchers only worked in Terminal B (the SAS terminal), whereas I
was now in Terminal C (the SOL terminal). Further, since Continental
was not an SAS partner, it wasn't her responsibility, and if I wanted
to use the voucher I should go to Terminal B and use it there.
I smashed my forehead on her counter in frustration (not a good idea
when you already have a headache from sleep deprivation). I said it
was too far to the other terminal, and besides I would have to go
through security again, both on the way and on the way back. I didn't
mention that my boarding pass had been flagged by security, and for
all I knew if they saw me jumping terminals they would cavity search
me next. But I did tell her that I was already more than thirty hours
into this trip.
She finally took pity on me and gave me an $8 voucher that would work
in this terminal. Well, $8 wasn't quite enough to get a full
breakfast from the smoothie hut (and damned if I was going to spend my
own money), but it was good enough for pancakes and eggs, which is
what I got. After forcing them down, I sincerely wished I had spent
the money on a smoothie.
-----
That's about it. I waited for a couple of hours at the gate, then
boarded the plane and took off right on time. As I write these words,
the landing gear is dropping and the plane is lining up for the
runway. Hopefully the landing will be smooth, both Joe and my luggage
will be at baggage, and this will be the end of the last
intercontinental trip I plan to take for a very long time.
I've been going for over 41 hours, and I probably still have another
two before I make it to Santa Cruz. The first think I will do when I
get home is hug the puppies. The second is send Jen an email. The
third is straight to bed. I can't wait.
On Sunday, August 6, we were still in Stockholm. It was the day after the day that M&M became husband and wife. It was also the anniversary of the atomic bombing by the United States Army Air Forces of Hiroshima. 
