One more thing

I forgot to mention: I had a run of plane trips in which I bumped into second (or third) tier athletes or retired guys. Hasn’t happened in a few years, but I may have started a new streak last night (or this morning, depending on your pov): Neil O’Donnell, quarterback for the Superbowl-losing Pittsburgh Steelers of 1996, was a few seats behind me on Flight of the Damned.

When I saw him in the terminal at Nashville (6’3″ white guy, talking with his wife/girlfriend about an exec at CBS Sports), I figured he was somebody, but it turns out I was wrong.

I almost kissed the floor of the jetway

The flight was insanely arduous. Delayed at the gate (plane couldn’t make it out of Newark for a while, due to weather). Delayed on the tarmac (landing windows weren’t available in Newark). Stacked in a holding pattern in awful crosswinds (hint: don’t put small, light airplanes in holding patterns during bad weather). Turbulence that had the stewardess talking in the shaky-voice over the intercom.

As a bonus, the monorail at Newark wasn’t functioning, so I got to walk over to the parking garage in the rain at 2:30 in the morning, more than four hours late. I’m gonna go to bed. Good to be home.