I made it.
I was reminded again at how much I loathe goodbyes and how much I love airports. First impressions? Everyone, to my continued fascination, has a British accent. It takes a huge force of will not to giggle.
Four hours after my plane landed I found myself in a free taxi ride to take a trash bag of mail over to the program office (I don't know what's going on anymore) that came with complimentary running commentary. "Everything's going fucking green anymore, mate," our cabbie insisted. As in environmental. "The green stink," on the other hand, apparently referred to a particular strain of marijuana he'd sampled — and enjoyed — in California.
I've got 6 hours of airplane stink I need to wash off and I'm hungry. More later.