If we forgot it, it's too late now

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We're sitting in Daytona Beach International airport waiting for our connection to Atlanta. This does not seem very international to me, but I know there are some strange bedfellows in the whole secessionist movement, and maybe something happened while I wasn't paying attention. From Atlanta, world city of international intrigue, or at least strippers, from what I hear, it's a nine hour + flight to Madrid. Not looking forward to that, but at least they give you plenty of leg room on the plane and when I see the professionalism and thoroughness of the TSA, I am confident that there will be no tomfoolery going on. Or hooliganism.
Well, obviously I have nothing important to say, just getting through some pre-travel jitters. I would like to mention that I was monumentally disappointed with my previous entries for Scandinavia, and would like to make a real effort at changing the way I put all this down. Less travel guide material and more impressions. So these may not be as kid friendly or inoffensive, just as a warning ahead of time. Also, I'm hoping we got the basics of Mom Owen's camera down, here are a few practice shots we took before leaving.
Alright, we're off like a two dollar whore's dress, as T likes to say.

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