It's murder on the dancefloor, but you better not kill the groove

I returned to Fort Lauderdale late last night: just after 11. And the worse part of the weekend happened to be the flight home. The clinic went smoothly--even on Friday--and, in some respects I was able to recharge during it (there was a good amount of down time, where I was basically just waiting for people to get out of meetings). There were some interesting problems with the hotel (room placement, room reservations quirks, and things being left by the hotel staff that shouldn't've been--like food trays and boxes shipped to the hotel), but those were managed.

The problems with my return flight started with my arrival at the airport. I waited for 30 minutes in line at the "eTicket/Baggage" line to check-in my bag on my eTicket, and right before it was my turn at the electronic kiosk--I'm always amazed by the people who take very long periods at the computer screens--I found out I could've just gone to "Bag Drop" on the other side of security, where I would've waited probably 5 minutes. Luckily, I had time.

Security went smoothly, though I almost forgot I had an unopened soda in my carry-on. I found my gate ok, but only grabbed a snack to eat: I had about 30 minutes before my flight was supposed to board. Then as I'm sitting at the gate, the flight gets delayed due to mechanical trouble. The delay turned out to only be about 30 minutes, and we got a new plane, but I could've eaten! But rather randomly, I ended up sitting next to the head coach of the team I swim on: he was flying through Houston on his way back to FtL.

As we are getting on the plane, I noticed (for the second time) a rather tall gentleman on our flight. Earlier I'd mistaken him for a basketball player, but as I was getting my boarding pass scanned, he was at the ticket counter with his tennis rackets speaking with the gate crew. From their conversation, I gleamed that he's 6'10" (I told you he was tall), and from some research upon arriving home, I deduced that it was Ivo Karlović, (after confusing him with some third player who I thought was Goran Ivanišević, but who I confused Goran with). In any case, Karlović was returning home from having just won the U.S. Clay Court ATP stop in Houston yesterday.

Of course this discovery was late at night, post staying awake the whole flight because a rather obnoxiously-loud two-year boy old cried (out) in the row in front me most of the flight. Thankfully, I didn't have my heart set on sleeping, or it really would've irked me. It also helped that Ivo was seated across the aisle from me, in the exit row: I made me thankful to be in the exit row, myself, and that he was as well (and partially made up for the short, elderly couple seated in the exit row as well...).

And on that note, as I got to bed late last night (and had 45+ unread messages in my Inbox), I will head to bed now. Oh, did I mention that it was cold here? I'm thinking the weather is preparing me for my trip to Minneapolis later this week.

Oh, I know I know I know I know I know I know I know
About your kind
And so and so and so and so and so and so and so
I'll just have to play