Leaving

Tomorrow night, I will fly on the red-eye from Los Angeles to Miami, then from Miami to Port-au-Prince. The flight gets in just before 8 AM to Haiti and the following is what I have received in preparation (as it turns out I've learned quite a lot):

"We'll send our driver with a student to meet you at the airport on Wednesday.
As the main terminal collapsed in the earthquake, you'll go through
immigration in what was originally a building for handling cargo. Once you
clear immigration, you'll go outside, turn right, and walk following a
chainlink fence on your left for maybe a couple hundred yards before reaching
the area where people can meet you. Our student will be holding a sign with
your name on it. The driver can take you to your room, where you can
drop off your things, get cleaned up, and then come to the office when you're
ready. Then we will be delighted to welcome you here!"

It's real, and it's here. And I am not packed. I am sitting here watching the Daily Show going over my packing list, but not actually making progress. So far I have 3 piles: Clothing, Toiletries/Accessories, and Stuff. All are growing, but none is in the suitcase.

I think it's time for me to stop writing in this blog as if it is some sort of catharsis and just get'er done. Beace out beoble. (That's Arab-American speak for peace out people). Wish me luck.