And now for the (social) hangover.


I biked from the suburban Vienna pension to the underground, loaded the bike on it, and debarked a kilometer from Westbahnhof station. The bike was loaded onto an express train for a seven hour journey to Frankfurt central station, walked around the corner to a waiting hotel, then walked back the same route early this morning. I put it on an S (suburban) train, and got off at the airport. The bike was repacked, with a switch in Cincy. Back in Louisville, there was a theoretical possibility of finding TARC connections to New Albany, and without the case, I might have pedaled home.

But you know the rest of the story: Diana picked me up, and home we went. How much again are we planning on spending to build more bridges for more traffic, and more sprawl requiring more bridges …

One more thing before I collapse into delirium: Jeff Gillenwater is a saint, and his work here for the past three and a half weeks speaks for itself. Dinner and drinks for Bluegill and Karen at Bistro New Albany are on me, all night, as soon as a date opens up. After all, we can walk home — even without a truly civilized country’s public transportation.

Calling Tabitha … what’s the story in Thailand?