I am writing this note shortly after 2 PM EDT, which means that we left Merced, California over 25 hours ago. Marlene has been back in Tupelo for about 11 hours. I've been stuck at Kennedy Airport in NYC all day because the snowstorm that passed through last night caused hundreds of flights to be canceled, including my flight to Albany. When I got off the plane this morning, the airport was almost totally deserted. As the day has worn on, weary travelers have straggled in from various cities, all bottlenecked here in New York, hoping for a flight to take them somewhere else. On the advice of a friendly Delta counter clerk this morning, I went to the baggage claim area to see about taking a train or renting a car so I could get to Word of Life in upstate New York--a six-hour drive. And when I got downstairs, there was no one there. The place was totally deserted, like the Rapture had happened and everyone in New York had been taken except me. So I called Word of Life and after a few conversations, it was decided that I should rent a car and drive to Albany where someone would pick me up and take me to the BI. Great idea, except that Delta was not releasing bags, which meant that they would be delivered tomorrow or the next day. Not good, because I don't have a change of clothes with me. Then I found a lady in the Delta office who at first was rather abrupt but turned friendly when she found out that I wasn’t going to yell at her, which tends to happen a lot on days like this. She advised me to go back through security and wait for the 4:20 PM flight to Albany. I decided to that even though my boarding pass says, "Ticket Requested," which means I might make it or I might not. And I have no idea about my bags.

Yesterday Marlene told me twice that she thought I was handling this long trip very well. I think she's right, for the most part. As the wise man said, where there are no alternatives, there are no problems. I have no alternative but to wait and enjoy the ambiance of Terminal 2 at Kennedy Airport somewhere in New York City. It’s not Times Square, but it's close. And if I make that 4:20 PM flight, I'll be a happy man. If my bags actually show up in Albany, I'll ask Mark to teach me how to dance "the Sprinkler."

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