Tonight three cops were escorting a guy in handcuffs out of my apartment complex. And I'm in the "nice" part of town. So once again, to those who think travel is too dangerous, your own town can be dangerous too. To be totally safe, you would have to spend your life in your bedroom hiding under the sheets.

I was supposed to pick my mom up at BWI at 10:50 tonight, but her flight from Lafayette, IN to Detroit via puddle-jumper was canceled. Northwest has put her and her four fellow passengers up for the night in a hotel. So now I have to pick her up at noon, and Chris, who's car I am driving, at 5:30. I hope to squeeze a trip to the other REI in between pickups, since I imagine Chris will want his car back.

Only three days of work left. My coworkers seem to fall into three categories: those who think what I am doing is pretty cool and want to know details of my plans, those who don't know what to make of what I am doing and don't care about my plans, and those who disapprove of what I am doing, and make jokes about me joining the Taliban. That is in bad taste and is not remotely funny, so thankfully those people are in the minority.