“Man, I’m glad our flights didn’t get too screwed up in & out of Denver,” said Margot just now. Well, give her credit for looking on the bright side of things. It’s true that our flights weren’t canceled, but look at the “fun” the boys & I had while moldering on the tarmac for a couple of hours, awaiting the de-icing truck:
Henry proceded to pass out, and then—once we were in the air—puke all over the place. (“Why didn’t you grab the barf bag??” demanded Finn, quite reasonably. Because your old man doesn’t have cat-like reflexes, son.) Amazingly, as we finally dragged our bones through the door in San Jose, Hen lit up and said—without a hint of irony—”That was the best trip ever!” ;-P