Okay, so maybe you can go home again.
On my last night in Bordeaux, I did some hurried packing and cleaning and I went down to Dick Turpin's for my last open mic night with some friends. I stayed until a little after closing time, and went upstairs to try to catch a bit of sleep before I had to wake up at 4 a.m. to catch a taxi. I had fitful dreams and I woke up every hour, panicked that I'd missed my flight. I didn't miss my flight. I had four hours of layover in Paris and then the transatlantic to New Jersey. From the moment I got off the plane, everything was shiny and efficient. I had a Dr. Pepper, and some cheap Chinese food. Life was grand, if a little strange. People were wearing t-shirts and tennis shoes and there were entirely too many people who had bleached their hair blond. And then I got stuck in Newark because Continental purposefully overbooked their flight to Tulsa. They put me up in a hotel room and I spent the night and entire next day watching the Discovery channel and hanging around in the...