In Mexico City, after a considerable scare. Somewhere over Atlanta, en route from Paris, the plane dropped like a stone. People screamed. It was far and away the worst turbulence I have ever experienced. And one of the stewies, in a brave attempt at reassurance, said that in seven years flying this was only the third time she had been in anything like it. That guff about keeping your seat belt on? Do it. Two or three passengers damaged their heads on the ceilings, as their seats dropped from under them and they obeyed Newton's second law of motion. (At least, I think it is the second.) The pilot was bravely unconcerned, explaining that this little bit of turbulence snuck under the radar, but I for one would have preferred a little more urgency in his report. Maybe something about it not really stressing the plane all that much.
Other than that, and the fact that the security monkeys at Charles de Gaulle are rude beyond belief, everything went smoothly. Oh, Air France left the display posters at Paris. But they knew they had, and assured me that they would be here this evening. We shall see.
I'm here for a meeting of colleagues, and it is very good to see again all those email addresses in the flesh. Meatspace beats cyberspace, at least every now and again. More later.