...After a grueling flight back home. By the way, if you were on that flight, I was the one with the screaming infant. Sorry about that.

 

This was one of the primary entertainment mechanisms of the trip, by the way, certainly for the first week. A complete stimulation package with wide-screen DVD on the laptop (sometimes with headphones, although not here), lunch, and a drink.

 

There were two significant events on the flight. The first was when we checked in and my large bag shot up the belt and down into the back room before the attendant could put a tag on it. So they're sending people down to pull it by hand and asking for identifying marks and stuff. And that's what is in the back of my mind and Karas as we get on the plane.

 

The second was when we emerged. Normally, strollers come right out at the plane door on the ramp. But they didn't know at the ramp where they would come out. They finally settled on baggage claim, which was unfortunate, as poor Katherine would really have liked a ride. So that put us behind enough that the Lufthansa flight behind us started dumping people into passport control. We barely made it to the line in time to avoid behind trapped behind another entire plane. Katherine had to go to the bathroom, but we weren't willing to lose our place in line. There is no bathroom at the luggage pickup level in Logan Terminal E. Why? Don't ask me. It's crazy.

 

And if course, it was the last thing to come out of the baggage claim. All the Lufthansa people were gone by the time we finally got it. But to be fair, I will also tell you that my large black suitcase was the first of our bags to emerge. All tagged proper like nothing had ever happened at Heathrow.