The day before the trip, all hell has not broken loose. Everything’s tidily packed in my trunk, sans broken camera. A quick stop at the Target next to the office nets me the last few supplies I need - plastic baggies for airport security, mostly.

After a quick rendezvous with the rest of my immediate travel group, we checked in and somehow managed to get through the TSA Gauntlet without losing the Rubber-Glove Lottery. Once on-board, it dawns on us that our whole travel group takes up, easily, half the 767. Duty-free liquor is, naturally, broken out upon take-off and when the stewardess announces that everyone’s getting a free round courtesy of Delta, the cheers were deafening.

After a purely perfunctory dinner - even international airline food leaves something to be desired - I dosed myself up with melatonin, hoping to catch forty winks and be fresh for a morning in the British Isles. Sadly, coach is incredibly un-conducive to somnolent endeavors, particularly with a beverage cart jolting me awake every hour by slamming into my knee.

Still, earplugs and willpower made for at least twenty-three winks over the North Atlantic.

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