Slan is dul le Dia, friend. ("Goodbye and go with God" - one of many useful phrases I learned from my Irish friend). He finally made it out and is flying to Madrid as I write. Since neither Irishmen nor our family ever do things in a boring, non-stressful way we had our obligatory dose of drama thanks to a flat tire on the way to the airport. The executive director of the mission was visiting and was along for the ride to the airport so he stayed with the car and helped get the tire changed while the rest of us desperately tried to flag down a cab. It was not an ideal place to find one since we were a few kilometers out of town toward the airport and there are few cabs just looking for passengers out there. The cab that did pick us up was being driven by a South African man (?!!). I was sorry I didn't have more time to talk to him, but we were in just a wee bit of a panic by the time we finally got to the airport so I just payed our fare and ran. Praise God we had all the right papers and our friend was truly "clean" and made it through security, immigration and the drug check with nothing but a bit of delay.