We’re at the airport! Andale Mexican Bar in SFO to be precise about things. A Dirty Goose (Grey Goose and olive juice of course) and a beer later, we’re enjoying the last south of the border meal for a long time. New Zealand serves neither Mexican food, nor peanut butter. Most Americans find both of these factoids disturbing.
The last few days have been such a whirlwind, I feel like I should journal about them for my own enjoyment later, but I also feel like I can barely focus on all that has happened. It’s like the last 72 hours is a blurry photo. I keep staring at it, but before I can focus, something else happens and – squirrel – I’m distracted.
I’m going to finish this beer, have another on the plane, and enjoy the
free included TV/movie entertainment for a few hours before I hopefully pass out for a peaceful 8 hour slumber. And then…