I wrote this when I got to my room last night

Apparently a lot of people got in late. The flights today weren't bad at all, and went way better than any experience I've had previously with jetblue. I slept, listened to music, and watched the inflight entertainment to kill the seven hours I was in the air. There was a guy on my flight with a fedora, jncos, chucks, and a cane. I felt bad for him.

The cab driver who took me to the hotel talked the whole way. I tell you, if you want to meet people who love the US, take cabs. The guy talked about his family and his wife and one-year-old son and how he's still going to school. I'm not sure what it is about me, but every cab driver I ever ride with asks me if I'm married. He told me he married his high school sweetheart the day after they graduated, which is cute but really, really impractical. Above all, though, he stressed the importance of respecting one's parents, especially your mother. I don't remember what got him going on these tangents, but he seemed really happy to have someone to talk to who agreed.

And now I'm in my room, which ought to be Stephen's and mine, but it's a single. Weird, and probably more expensive than I want it to be. The kitchen area is kind of laughable, with a half-assed pot and pan, two each in the fork, knife, spoon, and plate departments, and a complete absence of cups. It's four in the morning back in Richmond, but I guess the plane ride didn't slow me down at all. I'm going to try to go to sleep and get a handle on things tomorrow.