On the road again: World Fantasy Con, Toronto, day 6

Ah, they joys of travel. Today's journey home started smoothly enough with a quick and on-time check-out and the car to the airport showing up on time.

The ride itself was a bit harrowing, however, because our driver gave very little of his attention to driving and instead focused on running a multi-car business from his phone. He made call after call, pausing only to read his email, all the while hurtling at 130 km/hr--on a highway with a posted limit of 100 km/hr. I have rarely been so happy to be out of a cab or other city transport.

Once at the airport, everything proceeded in the sort of slow, plodding pace you normally associate with a forced march or a funeral. Everyone was pleasant enough, but no one was in any sort of hurry. It all worked out, though, and I had time in Pearson International to grab email at the Admiral's Club and a weird sandwich (turkey, brie, and cranberry on triangular bread) for lunch. 

The flight to LaGuardia passed pleasantly, though our flight attendant, who fancied herself both a comedian and a dancer, rarely let anyone's attention light on anything except her. I finally gave up my futile attempts to read and tried to escape her performances by faking sleeping.

LaGuardia was its normal dirty, crowded, loud self.  Despite all that, from months of commuting there many years ago, I still have a fondness for it.

The flight home was fine--once we finished sitting on the tarmac for over half an hour. 

Alas, my suitcase never appeared on the luggage carousel, so I had to waste another half an hour while the American baggage agent assured me that although they had lost track of it in Toronto, the bag would eventually turn up.  I actually believe them, because that's been my experience in the past, but I won't relax fully until I see it.

It was good to go to the con, but it is good to be home.