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The Wright Brothers were fucking genius.

Ellen and I are now heading north on I-85 near the North Carolina-Virginia border. We’re driving through a driving rain in an amenity-free Corolla. The various weather reports we’ve watched, heard or read have mentioned flooding and blizzards and gale force winds. We’re listening to a local DJ’s take on the Imus firing.

This was not the plan.

Three-hundred flights into New York have already been canceled, but Continental has not yet ruled on ours. To me, this is poor customer service. Ellen needs to get home for work tomorrow, and I’d like to get home for The Sopranos tonight. When I called Continental, I was told they don’t want to cancel any flights and treated to a script about their dedication to safety. It’s a top priority, I was assured. Not in the mood for non-sequiturs, I hung up. I realized their real plan was to get us to the airport and never let us leave. So we changed the rental car drop-off location to Newark Airport, picked up a few stale pastries from Kroger and hit the long road home.

I’m trying to stay positive, but failing. It’s hard, especially when I remember the Wright Brothers invented airplanes simply to avoid this kind of journey.

I’ll post the weekend’s photo highlights tomorrow. They are fantastic.