July 10, 2010

8:33 a.m.
The sun shines. I pack my suitcases. I decide that packing the pillows would be wrong, but am sorely tempted.
9:36 a.m.
Morning budget report. Figure of “eleventy hundred zillion dollars, three pennies, and a shiny Canadian nickel” goes un-remarked upon.
9:47 a.m.
The Missions committee moderator ends her report. Which means that the business stuff is over and the ceremonial thank yous have begun. The Closing Ceremony is awesome as 2000 Chinese drummers play in unison with 2000 rhythmic gymnasts, all the athletes march by the moderator stand, and we have a B-2 Stealth Bomber flyover, which is immediately protested as being too militaristic, as well displaying ageism against the B-52.
10:00 a.m.
Volunteers have worked their butts off this week, as evidenced by the large collection of butts in the convention hallways.
10:04 a.m.
Excellent presentation of the Pittsburgh GA 2012 committee. Features Mr. McFeely from Mr. Rogers, and commissioners singing “Its a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.” I am being serious. Also seriously, I will in no way attend the 220th GA as I would like to keep my memories of my birthplace as well as Mr, Rogers unstained.
10:16 a.m.
Moderator Bolbach claims this to be the best ever General Assembly, What happened at the worst ever? I am picturing something Tolkein-esque, like the Battle for Helm’s Deep, only longer and bloodier.
10:19 a.m.
Mike Fry is not present at the final meeting so we unanimously elect him to be Gradye Parsons’ Stated Valet.
10:20 a.m.
Adjourned following worship. Hallelujah and amen.
11:33 a.m.
I stay for worship. Mercifully, it is a simple and rhetoric-free service. An eight-year-old girl reads the scripture. This is a low blow. I hold it together long enough to finish the service and walk back to the hotel one last time, thanking and wishing well those that I have worked with this week, including bartenders. I wish my roommate and new friend Tom well, then I deflate the ThunderStix and let the annoying woman go her way in peace.
12:04 p.m.
Complete packing, but in the most heartbreaking moment of the week, I am forced to empty two beers down the sink. There is no room in the suitcase and even if there was, I am fearful they will explode in the varying pressures of the plane. This time I am unable to hold back, and weep openly. My weeping ceases when the bathroom begins to smell like my college apartment on a Sunday morning. It is time to leave Minneapolis,
12:27 p.m.
Board a motor coach and head off to the airport. There were no lines for the buses, this time, so I wasn’t forced to bike. However, I am riding in the lower luggage compartment.
12:57 p.m.
Arrive at Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport, Here, there are lines. People near the head of the lines have been there so long I overhear one couple say they are hoping to get aboard those fancy Pan Am’s with those swell new jet engines they’ve heard so much about.
1:35 p.m.
God is smiling upon me as the only skycap at the airport, or possibly Minnesota, happens by and directs me to his post outside. I thank him effusively and tip him the remaining GA per diem funds I have.
1:57 p.m.
Security is moving slowly even for them. A man bearing a striking resemblance to the Geico caveman is ahead of me. I later find he is a member of a band called One Eskimo. I just wanted to mention it in case they become famous and want to thank me for the early publicity and shout out,
2:03 p.m.
Making progress toward the front scanners when a Presbyterian woman (I know because she is still wearing her lanyard) whom I believe may have once been married to John Witherspoon, is befuddled by the process and presents a book of S&H Green Stamps to the officer. I begin to fret that I will miss my flight. God’s sense of humor is starting to become somewhat obnoxious.
2:14 p.m.
I make it to the gate as we are boarding. Across the aisle is the woman I wanted to hit with ThunderStix. Not really, but I did check.
3:19 p.m.
We land, but are delayed on the tarmac as another plane has been grounded for mechanical issues and has yet to leave our assigned gate. The pilot fires two sidewinder missiles, destroying the offending plane. I believe it’s OK, especially since the destroyed plane didn’t work anyway.
3:31 p.m.
My wife and kids hug me right in front of the baggage claim and One Eskimo. And that is never out of order.

Other notes:
-I will sum up my thoughts and opinions on the issues and the week in general soon, especially since I have to give a report to our Presbytery next week.
-Had a Leinenkugel Summer Shandy with dinner. Ahhhh.