On the flight from Seattle to Cincinnati, Marjorie's seat wouldn't move and the large man in the aisle seat wouldn't either (the large man in the window seat had his own problems, as it was the seat without an actual window, meaning my shoulder had about four inches less room than expected). So she could barely walk as we got off the plane, her back was in such spasm. Some walking later, and careful massaging by yours truly, and she was better. I took the middle seat and she had the aisle on the next leg.
Got in just on time, and my bag was the first and hers the eighth off the flight.
We're sitting here enjoying wireless connections at Roland Park Place. Which is of course rather shut down for the night even though it's 8:07 pm in our brains.
We talked to Mary at the airport and will see her tomorrow. By 11am, since they're testing the fire alarms then!
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