Lawng Eyelund

One day I’m in Rio and the next day I am in an episode of the Sopranos…that would be Long Island, NY for those unfamiliar with my whirling-dirvish itinerary. Let’s see….Rio/Long Island…Rio/Long Island. Nice contrast.

Coming into Long Island, I was scared to death of driving through NYC. For someone who refused to take jewelry mugging in a foreign country seriously, I was CERTAIN I was going to end up as a “fictional” victim on Law and Order. You know…the poor schmuck that Jerry Orbach makes some horrible joke about right before the opening salvo. Seriously, I just figured I’d lose ALL ability to read signs to the interstate and end up down some alley next to one of those trash-can fires. Man, if you end up next to a trash-can fire, you are screwed.

What I SHOULD have worried about was the airport. Remember that post where I said the Albany airport was roughly the size of my living room? Well, uh…JFK is roughly the size of Albany.

Incidentally…never, never, never check your bag to JFK. First, there are about 362 baggage claim carousels in that airport. Second, there are roughly 361 planes ahead of you for baggage unloading. Finally, bags are unloaded by….well, New Yorkers. I mean, did someone RIDE my bag to baggage claim? Didn’t my bag used to have an outside pocket??? Can I please have the aloe back that was in my bag when I checked it??

I’m flying back through Albany.