We're home. More later.
Edited to add: It's 5:55am. Jet lag is a real trip. When it's jet lag coupled with some sort of strange Asian flu (are any of you really that surprised that I am sick?), well, let's just say that you begin to hallucinate that the cup of tea you made for yourself in the hopes of quelling your sour stomach is actually named Ralph and he has a wife and kids in Hoboken.
The cats are really showing their Siamese side, demanding constant attention. Manni Moe unfortunately had inappropriate bathroom habits during our sojourn, according to our house sitter. We don't get angry with him about it. That's just who he is.
First Class is the only way to handle long trips abroad. I don't know how I would have made this trip otherwise. All told, from Singapore to Phoenix was over 24 hours of nonstop travel and transit. We were in First Class for 90% of the trip, and it still was just miserable.
The Northwest Airlines lounge in Minneapolis serves a wonderful chicken noodle soup...a real saving grace for me, believe me.
All in all, it is great to be home. Now if only I could get some sleep. I might just stay awake until Jamba Juice opens. I am jonesing for a Coldbuster like a junkie craves smack.
Oh, and one more thing: our view of Singapore from our hotel room window was amazing.
A "Golden Jet" in April 1967
