How the other half lives

I'm in the Executive Class lounge in the St. John's airport right now, and if I can find a way, I'll live here the rest of my life. Our original flight has been delayed, so they switched us over to another flight and bumped our tickets up to El-Swanko class. There's a self-serve bar complete with scotch, screech, port, and draft beer, internets are free, magazines are free, food is free: this is the very definition of good times.

We've been in Newfoundland since last Thursday. For those of you who keep track of our comings-and-goings solely through this blog (and I doubt that there's that many of you), I know it looks like we died pretty abruptly near the end of Bluesfest. Not the case, obviously. We missed the Friday and Saturday (due alternately to exhaustion and apathy), and then we caught Sam Roberts (freshly shorn and no less awesome for it) and the Solid Gold Dance Party (including such acts as Peaches and Herb, Anita Ward, and the Village People--the last of which doesn't warrant much remarking on, despite what you'd expect). I was negligent on the updates because, as it always goes right before vacation, work was mental. And then before I knew it, we were off to the homeland.

Anyways, updates to follow in the coming days. Lots of relatives, lots of strong drink, lots of incomprehensible Newfie dialogue.