Madness in Manhattan

Saturday began with a drive to New York, dropping parents at a Broadway show - their Christmas present, with Amtrak tickets back to Boston. That meant spending a day in Manhattan traffic in a minivan, which is like pushing a dodge ball through a flexi-straw. One fender bender was settled for 50 bucks while we sat in bumper-to-bumper, literally, traffic. Pedestrians mobbed the streets like someone was filming the sequel to 'World War Z,' so we're presuming there was some big event in the city. Finally connected with parents, got them to Penn Station and got to JFK in time to sit about for awhile.

The 12-hour-ish flight from JFK to Amman was largely chartered by the League of Wailing Babies, but we all managed to doze a bit and suck down primo airline chow. Royal Jordanian does put on the dog, and take that however you choose. A few hours in the cavernous, polished Queen Alia International and we were off to Dubai, 2.5 hours with a meal and most of an expurgated version of 'Pacific Rim' on the seatback in front of me - I still don't know how it ends, because the flight finished first, but I'm betting the humans won.

Immigration at Dubai Terminal 1 was the usual endless lines of guest workers and the odd Euro tourist, with baggage claim almost an afterthought. We got to Terminal 2 with about seven hours to spare, and found out we couldn't check in for the Kabul flight until four hours in advance. Thank God for the nice folks at Costa Coffee in the terminal entrance - just don't thank God for their donuts which are, um, an interesting effort. Emily has been shooting the outside of the building, setting up her tripod, of course, in the taxiway, because Art must always triumph over the Combustion Engine. True to her luck, taxis stopped for her. 

Kabul flight check-in finally opened. Off to K-town, inshallah.