River: In liminal space

After toasting to "our next adventure" in the Delta sky lounge at SeaTac, N explained that we were between adventures -- buying our new house, shipping our belongings, and packing for our flight marked the end of our previous adventure. The next will begin when we move in to SchildHavn later this week. In the mean time we are in liminal space. I find it particularly appropriate that my current reading is "On Fairy Stories" by J. R. R. Tokkien.

Internet here on the plane is flaky. The passenger "entertainment" system crashed, and it took them half an hour to reboot it. Apparently this is standard. My assumption is that they've gone over to the dark $ide. The food here in "business" class, OTOH, is excellent.

Packing up was frantic -- I hadn't left myself nearly enough time. Several errands disn't get run, and in the confusion I left most of my stock of masks behind. Among other things. Well, G and m will be coming in another four weeks or so, and we're working on the assumption that we'll be able to come back occasionally for visits. "Leaf by Niggle" is also appropriate.

A large part of the problem with packing was second-thinking my luggage decisions. In the end I wound up putting my sling bag into my pacsafe (?) tote. The tote's bigger. The question is whether I'm going to have to carry my carry-on as a backpack. Should probably have used the small Travelpro as my carry-on, but it really depends on whether we're going to be taking rail to the hotel. Which I don't know yet. Hope not, because my main suitcase weighs over 50 lbs (up from 39 when I checked it yesterday). That way madness lies.

A glass of wine and a light lunch in the Delta sky lounge went a long way toward helping me unwind. As did the excellent food in 'business" (let's just call it what it is -- First) class. A glass of something alcoholic on the plane is a large part of my travel ritual, and has been ever since I started college at Carleton. The drinking age in the air back there wa 18; I don't know whether it still is.

Unlike the food, the "bed" that the seat attempts to turn into is the most uncomfortable damned contraption I've ever failed to sleep in. It would have helped if the seat belt was adjustable. Why in blazes would they make a seatbelt that can't be adjusted? And I may have eaten a little too much. The idea of being able to overeat in a plane is still somewhat bizarre.

... Posting from our hotel, Cove Centrum/Passage Den Haag. Now that I've unpacked a machine with usable posting software. The new (ad)venture starts with the next post.