Yet another night of not nearly enough sleep. I’m up at 4.00, packed, showered, dressed and out the door by 5.15. We headed to Luton Airport by cab, the first ride in a car I’ve had since parking in Tallahassee. Security there is tight, we're being herded like cattle through a number of rows for the x-ray and metal detectors. Then we bought champagne for the wedding at the Duty Free, and grabbed some breakfast, two chocolate croissants, the lightest and fastest breakfast I’ve had in England. We walk out on the tarmac and board a large, purple WizzAir (pronounced Weezer, neither spelling, nor pronunciation instills faith) Airbus 320. I had never seen this exact shade of purple before, but oddly I will see it again later in the day, very nearly twice. A short and
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