Saturday, November 27, 2004


The usual Secret Service bureaucracies. Harried, hurried weigh-ins, security checks. Zette gets busted for her hair-dryer. Last minute arrangements for Les’ hotel reservation in Kolkata.

Mike says to me: You know what? I would like to think of Manipur as being like Cinderella, her beauty just waiting to be discovered. I’d be willing to play Fairy Godmother, she says.

I volunteer to be the Fairy if she will be the Godmother. Bonnie and Erin say my witticisms have become just godawful over the last ten days.

Many goodbyes. Some tears. I am dying to fly back to NYC with them.

Dave and I walk out together. He wants to grab a coffee; I insist of seeing the planes take off first.

Only when I did see the planes airborne do I feel I can finally let my breath out fully in all these days. Their safe departure, with no incident and in reasonable good health, has been a huge and abiding concern. That they seem to have had a good time, dare I say it, has been almost secondary.

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