The flight from LHR to DFW was uneventful (apart from the screaming children, and the rather pregnant woman in considerable discomfort in the seat in front of us, trying to recline her seating as far as possible). But at DFW it was an unwelcome surprise to find that no longer can those of us in possession of a green card go through immigration alongside American citizens: no, because of new machines, we have to line up with very, very, very many other foreigners, together with their imperfectly filled forms, lack of English ("French interpreter needed at Booth 12," etc). The only people with relatively tight connections who were being allowed to jump the line were those with international flights. All the same, I flourished my boarding pass for DFW>ABQ, all the while texting Alice, quickly through and at baggage claims, about What To Do Next. Ah, said the TSA official - "Albuquerque - Mexico!" and ushered me into a rapid-process line. Thank goodness for US geographical ignorance...
Unfortunately, even though I made that flight, my suitcase didn't ... it caught the next one ... by this stage, we were safely in the ABQ Sheraton, and as I went to collect it from the airport, I was barely, barely awake enough to roll it back, let alone to struggle with recalcitrant internet ...
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