Longer answer: Guide Dog Aunt found me in the baggage claim, waited with me, showed off The Poodle to random passerby (actually, random passerby came up and started squeeing over The Poodle without talking to my aunt first, much the way some people come up, coo at babies and try to pat them, and only then encounter the Death Glare of the Parent. Except my aunt was much more amenable to poodle-based glee than that.), picked up my bag, wandered through a maze of twisty confusion to the parking lot, drove through more twisty confusion, then hilly confusion, and -- here we are!
The cousins are home. The cousins are gaming. This surprises no one. I'm not sure where Guide Dog Uncle is.
My cough hurts.