FinnAir pushed and prevailed. While hundreds idled in the international terminal at JFK, we were pushed through darkened hallways, through a hand check of our bags and wands and gates to secure our persons. Finally, twenty-one hours after we were originally scheduled to leave, we were all on board a plane, clapping and cheering as the pilot swung up on to the runway.

As I walked back to the bathrooms, I recognized most of my fellow passengers from the long hours watching their pores open and close in the ticketing lobby of klieg-lighted Terminal 8. It was a travel bonding experience; someone suggested we schedule a reunion.

We landed in Finland at 4am. Now it's Saturday morning under an overcast sky. I sit now in the same clothes I put on Thursday at six AM. Three days in the same outfit is not especially unusual, except that I haven't removed them during that time. I'm staying at a nice hotel; I suspect my time sweating and sleeping on the floor in my garments has me smelling stronger than usual. My checked luggage was left in the darkness of New York City; I'm not sure when I'll see clean clothes and socks. A good excuse to buy some Finnish underwear!

My camera was checked in my bags as well. What a mistake! I missed the chance to turn on night-vision and film refugee campouts at Kennedy airport. If I had, it might have looked something like the surreal New Years at Tokyo Disneyworld.

I missed a Helsinki meetup, but it's been kindly rescheduled for Wednesday.