Well, I was supposed to be home tonight, but Philadelphia ATC kept my Syracuse flight from even taking off until 45 minutes too late. Meanwhile, I had to endure the guy next to me smacking his gum loudly while I tried to sleep. Nice enough guy, but 45 minutes of eardrum-rattling gum smacking was enough to make me want to drop the gloves and pull his jersey over his head.

So I get to Philadelphia and my connector was gone. Did I mention that was the last flight to Raleigh this evening? The best US Airways can muster by way of compensation is a lousy "distressed passenger" rate at the Ramada for $69 a night. Of course, any rate at the Ramada is lousy, because it's the Ramada. More to the point, though, I needed broadband in the room to deal with the boatload of email that surely awaited me. So I write, gentle reader, from the 6th floor of the Philadelphia Airport Hilton. It's a good thing I only smoked cigars in one of my changes of clothing. Wheee-eeew!