I flew into Boston on the red-eye Friday night; finally arrived after a 2 hour equipment delay in Newark.
Why? A very special occasion.
It was a surprise party; (nearly) everyone was there, and we all, true to form, did not care one bit how silly we looked on the dance floor. It was awesome.
It was a very short, very fun weekend, spent with my family, a gift for both my sister and me.
Getting home Sunday could've been a disaster but wasn't. I arrived home two hours earlier than I had originally scheduled, in spite of a horrendous storm. It all worked out, somehow: I was where I needed to be and made it on the last plane to Houston, and made a connecting flight to Phoenix thirty minutes later.
Surreal, and fantastic.