The irony of it all is, you are there, and I am here. You are heading somewhere, I am staying here. You are heading south, I will be up north. When I land, you leave. It's cool. At least we are not stepping on each other's toes. Let's just think of it as a dance that requires distance. Space... so we can glide freely across the floor and eventually sway face to face. And I think I deserve a nice dip in the end, like those gay guys do when they dance the tango. Bow.