J'ai mis une plume dans le cheveux, mais elle n'est pas la maintenant.
Well, I'm back in my own timezone.
One 12-hr flight, one 3-hr layover and one 6-hr flight later, I´m at JFK. Which is where I'm gonna have to stay until 9am, when the first flight back to Vermont becomes available. The key, of course, is camping out behind a column upstairs in Terminal 5, despite everyone's efforts to herd me downstairs. Upstairs has power outlets.
It's 2am. La, I must stay awake. I suspect asleep would be bad.
Oh y'all, so much fun. So. Much. Fun. Really insane amounts of fun. We saw glow-worms. We tramped through the bush. We consumed so much Kiwi cheese that I'm surprised my butt fit in a standard airline seat on the way back. We lounged around in mineral pools until we were pruney but not sunburned (twice!). tinx_r interviewed a sleeping jellyfish. I rode a horse! And did not die! We climbed several walls, and it turns out tinx_r is a natural at it. (Who knew!?). We squeed and squeed and squeed at levels that may actually have shifted the whole North Island several inches to the left.
I was beset by a half-naked Richard Burgi eight inches from my eyes. Twice
And we did show up on cross-stitchery's doorstep, bearing wine and Riptide DVDs, and lo, she and mab_browne let us in, even though it was quite obvious we were madwomen. And now I can truthfully say I have seen an ep of The Sentinel (which I had not before--took me about a month to figure out which one was Blair) and I can agree with the sentiment that it is quite slashy. The vids, too, were awesome, especially The Man Song, which just continues to give and give.
And as tinx_r told me um, yesterday? earlier today?, the words "See you next year" are hardly adequate. I maintain there's enough of us in the Riptide fandom alone to simply tow New Zealand closer to the rest of the world. Are you ready, ladies? On the count of three, put your backs in it. One, two...
One 12-hr flight, one 3-hr layover and one 6-hr flight later, I´m at JFK. Which is where I'm gonna have to stay until 9am, when the first flight back to Vermont becomes available. The key, of course, is camping out behind a column upstairs in Terminal 5, despite everyone's efforts to herd me downstairs. Upstairs has power outlets.
It's 2am. La, I must stay awake. I suspect asleep would be bad.
Oh y'all, so much fun. So. Much. Fun. Really insane amounts of fun. We saw glow-worms. We tramped through the bush. We consumed so much Kiwi cheese that I'm surprised my butt fit in a standard airline seat on the way back. We lounged around in mineral pools until we were pruney but not sunburned (twice!). tinx_r interviewed a sleeping jellyfish. I rode a horse! And did not die! We climbed several walls, and it turns out tinx_r is a natural at it. (Who knew!?). We squeed and squeed and squeed at levels that may actually have shifted the whole North Island several inches to the left.
I was beset by a half-naked Richard Burgi eight inches from my eyes. Twice
And we did show up on cross-stitchery's doorstep, bearing wine and Riptide DVDs, and lo, she and mab_browne let us in, even though it was quite obvious we were madwomen. And now I can truthfully say I have seen an ep of The Sentinel (which I had not before--took me about a month to figure out which one was Blair) and I can agree with the sentiment that it is quite slashy. The vids, too, were awesome, especially The Man Song, which just continues to give and give.
And as tinx_r told me um, yesterday? earlier today?, the words "See you next year" are hardly adequate. I maintain there's enough of us in the Riptide fandom alone to simply tow New Zealand closer to the rest of the world. Are you ready, ladies? On the count of three, put your backs in it. One, two...