Just sat around in the morning while the guys packed. Went straight to the airport and had a nice photo op in the aeronautics museum. Then had a coffee and then Kees checked in. Nick was supposed to leave a couple of hours later, but it turned out he was supposed to meet Firriver's accountant (i.e. the fuckin Ralph) in Dublin the next day, so he exchanged his flight to a more direct one (via Istanbul, though, the Turks are cheaper nowadays) where he wouldn't have to sit in local transportation for four hours and take a room in Dublin. We then went to the restaurant near Lena's place - the Pitch, via the backroad, behind the airport. I tried to find that road from the other side two years ago, but misremembered the map. Now I know it, and it's really several kilometers shorter, not to mention avoiding the highway.
We had a hefty lunch and then Lena was finished her driving lesson (with a different instructor, the antipedagogical moron she had before is pretty much, from accounts by other students, everyone's nightmare). She and Milan came just about the time we were nearly finished (he with his beer, me with the liter of Knjaz Miloš mineral water) and helped us finish the meat, there was much more than we could eat. So I left him with them and drove home, through a congestion I didn't encounter since Richmond. Everyone is trying to bypass the dozens of trucks by taking the right lane, which is right-turn-only when approaching the bridge, so they merge by force into the middle lane right there. And I was stuck in the middle lane behind a truck. Took me a whole hour to get out. So next time I'll know - get into the left lane asap.
On the way back, the traffic got easier as soon as I crossed Danube, dwindling to very little as I got closer to home. Almost uneventful, except the entrance to sports center, just 1km before the end, where an old man (well probably a bit over my age) turned left into the center just a few meters ahead of me, without even looking around, giving no advance signal. There was no real danger - this place is notorious for such bikers, specially the other gate, to the city parks and garbage company, so I was already driving as slowly as needed. I just stopped, opened the window and yelled "what are you doing you old fool, I could have run you over! how old are you anyway, eleven?". His gray hair against my gray beard. Love such scenes, though, when I can rightfully vent.