The hop to BOS boarded right on schedule.
At first, it looked like we were only half full. But after getting everyone seated and buckled, the attendents counted out the empty seats, and then started letting on the standbys. There is a another EWR/BOS flight an hour later, and lots of people on it wanted to standby onto mine. I really can't blame them, but the end result was that we were again, completely full.
This flight is nice an short, only about an hour. I dozed, and listened to "Nymphomatriarch" on my musicbox.
Landings feel weird. Takeoffs are old hat now, but when I fell the "drop" when we start approach, it feels in my guts exactly like the smooth flow from 0G to terminal, and I instinctively want to arch and box. A good thing to become instinctive already. And when we are just about to touch the runway, I feel "too fast too fast TOO FAST this is going to hurt", because the last many times I've seen the ground coming up at me, I've been the one in charge, and my goal has been to get my velocity vector to be zero in all directions the moment my altitude reaches zero. I'll deal.
I picked up my luggage at the carosell in the bowels of Logan. The tricedamned TSA had taken the suitcase full of my camping gear, twisted up the nameplate, broken the zipper grip (which had had a lock attached, but had not been locked), stirred up my gear, and then left a note saying in standard "We are here to service you" language "We messed with your stuff and broke your suitcase. You can't sue us. Tough shit, sucker."
Dammit, that was the suitcase I had borrowed
If I'm ever on a grand jury for someone who shoots up a TSA agent or office, I'm going to vote to No Bill, I swear I will. These assholes combine all the actual security of a pimply faced superstore rentacop with all the expense, arrogance, and unaccountability of the Fed.
Anyway, a short time later, JudyG showed up. We took the MBTA back to her home, where we enjoyed dinner and dessert, and then a nice sleep.
It's hot here.