Well, I’m home. For those of you out west, that’s home in Ireland, not home in Indiana. I had a lovely visit, wonderful time with kids, parents and brother (missed my sister, drat!), and old friends. But approaching Shannon, looking down on green fields divided by hedges instead of fencing, exiting the plane to see smiling Irish faces, and Blaik waiting for me as I came through with my luggage . . . I’m home. And it’s grand.
We did learn not to mess with Newark Airport. Blaik had a horrendous time three weeks ago, backed up and couldn’t leave Indy, missed his connection in Newark, had to land in Dublin and rent a car! I would have had the same problem, but Tim dropped me off early to get to his class, and they put me on an earlier flight. Which still took off 2-1/2 hours late (an hour past when the original one was scheduled), but I made my connection. I think the original one left about 3 hours late. SOP for Newark, I guess–the word is to arrive by noon or one if you want any chance of being on time. West coast flights are allowed to come in, midwest get held up an average of 2-4 hours, and the Atlantic Seaboard? Don’t even try to make a connection! JFK and LaGuardia are also bad, but Newark is the worst. (This comes from my frequent-flyer seatmate, who had a long talk with flight attendants a few weeks earlier.) Chicago, Boston, Dulles are all better choices for transferring planes.
Now I just have to get over a really, really, REALLY bad case of jet lag!