I fly a lot, but this was new to me: after sitting out on the Tucson runway for about twenty minutes the pilot informed us that we were too heavy. I will admit to looking askance at the passenger next to me at this point. Given our weight, we could not legally take off in the current winds. Almost immediately I thought to myself, "Well. We'll probably have to return to the gate to dump excess fuel." But I know nothing about the actual mechanics of air travel, so even I didn't assume I had the answer.
Twenty minutes later, we returned to the gate to dump excess fuel. Apparently the Tucson airport only has one fuel truck or something (keep shootin' for the stars, Tucson!), because we then waited a half hour just for the crew to arrive.
Long story short, I'm supposed to be checking into my hotel in Athens right now, and meeting my wife. Instead I am enjoying lunch at an Atlanta airport-area mexican restaurant, which is every bit as good as it sounds.
Could be worse. I was originally rebooked on a flight that would've required I stay in Atlanta for TWO DAYS. Not that I don't like Atlanta. But, Zeus willing, I will be taking a circuitous Athens-by-way-of-Amsterdam-by-way-of-Minneapolis trip later this afternoon.
But enough of my whining, right? I'm still going to Greece, and you're probably not, currently. So here's a page from my sketchbook featuring a woodcutter and some patrons of the Surly Wench pub.