This country is too big. Or I'm too old. Or maybe I just need to manage my time so I actually sleep the night before a transcontinental trek.

I flew from Raleigh/Durham to Dallas to San Jose to Portland to Klamath Falls yesterday. (Was it only yesterday?)

Had a meltdown at San Jose, where, after arriving an hour late due to delays in Dallas, there were neither customer service agents nor signs available to tell me where to find my connecting flight. Turned out, it was in another terminal, which was not connected to my terminal of arrival, which meant I had to clear security again.

Usually I like exploring new airports, even though they're all pretty much alike. But not when I'm exhausted and frustrated and only halfway to my destination and the airport in question hasn't managed to solve a fundamental traffic flow issue. San Jose sux. I'm just glad to be going home by another route.

When I felt the tears welling up, the thought that flashed into my mind was, "milk it." I'm not enough of an actress to manufacture tears on demand, but when they're coming anyway, I'm not above letting them flow in the expectation of receiving sympathetic treatment from airline employees. And maybe a kind word or two from fellow passengers.

And to top off a long day, there was turbulance from Portland to KF, so drink service was cancelled, so I didn't even get my free booze.

But a good night's sleep in a warm bed in my parents' house does wonders. It's good to be home, even if it is exhausting to get here.