I'm Ba-ack

I *just* got home.

Despite my on-going, contentious relationship with The Universe.

It took me through a Frankfurt-ian racist cab driver (we were getting along rather well in our broken languages, until a Michael Jackson song came on and he was all, "Now, Michael white. Very good."

Um, no?

Now Michael white = scary, noseless circus freak. Much more handsome/from-this-planet-looking while he was still black) then the Lufthansa counter at the airport, where the attendent gave me an, "Oh you idiot American"-look, saying, "You need to go to the United counter" and after standing in the line THERE I was told I needed to go to the Lufthansa counter.

Um. Right. Just came from there. (45 minutes ago.) Please let me check in, here. No, they don't have any flights going to Newark, New Jersey. So I went back to Lufthansa, much more surly, cut in line, and said, "Bite, (as in the "please"-in-German way, not in the "me" way) I don't think I can stand in this line again and still make my flight. And to their credit, they let me cut, and I made my flight.

Got to New Jersey, and made my connection.

My luggage didn't.

It is now somewhere in Chicago, (if the United lady is to be believed) but at least I am home, with my kitties who are lovely and hateful, and The Funasaurus should be home from the Broncos game soon.

Tomorrow I will give you the gory details of my encounter with Tobias. The beautiful soap opera dream hunk. With whom I shared some words at the Frankfurt airport, while desperately wishing I had bothered to at least put on some freakin' mascara for my 14 hour trip.