Wide awake at 3 am

Jet lag is one of the weirdest phenomena around, especially if you're like me and you like to sleep. After an arduous trek across two continents, I finally made it back home late this afternoon. I wanted to go out and see some of the peeps I've missed so much, but I crashed around 7:30, only to wake up at 2 am for no apparent reason. Am I tired? Exhausted. And it's night time. And I'm in my favorite grandma-style nightgown in my own cozy little bed. And I can't sleep at all.

As some of you know, I was supposed to get back to SF in time to celebrate my big b-day on Thursday. It didn't happen. Fog stopped things up at the airport in Rome, which in turn threw all planes in Europe off schedule (or so the shifty Lufthansa representatives claimed). Then there was something about an emergency on one of the runways. Sadly neither my German nor my Italian is anywhere close to being good enough to figure out what the emergency was all about. We finally took off three hours late, and I missed my connection to SFO.

"No problem!" say the shifty Lufthansa reps. We booked you on another flight through JFK, with a later flight to SFO. Predictably the flight to JFK was delayed, too, complicated by another runway emergency (doesn't that sound suspicious?) which prevented us from landing for about an hour. Somehow I knew I would be spending the night in New York... and I did. Poor RB wound up celebrating her birthday at the JFK Holiday Inn all alone. Feel bad for me -- it was sketchy.

To anyone I spoke with this evening, I apologize. I don't think I even managed coherent English. After two days of airport torture and several different time zones, my brain doesn't know what hit it.