It's a tolerable -2C.

5.56 came early this morning. Despite making a pretty honest effort to get to bed on time, I laid awake for a long stretch. Lots of fretting about work going on, and fretting begets fretting. Of course the insomnia was really about the excitement of getting to the airport and getting on the plane. For weeks I have been looking forward to this morning, or rather this afternoon. This past week crawled. Last night time slowed to a pace that a glacier could race. There was last minute stuff to do. But I was as excited as a Kid at Krismus.

I don't really shine - which is to say I can forget ever having a pro career - at setting the timer on the coffee maker. And now that it's ready, somehow it didn't come out right. Ahh well, there's coffee on the road. It's time to go thru my bag one more time, give Charlie the Tawny Terror a quick walk, and warm up the car.

Matthew the elder, a prominent character in last year's reports, is driving us to the airport. Waking him up before noon is going to be a task. I am considering going out to the shed and getting the chainsaw. Revving it up outside his door - there's no better way to wake a sleeping Nite-owl University student.

You know what I have been dreaming of? No, not the long (thankfully direct) to PJA, but that moment. That moment that they pop open the door of the plane is the single greatest moment of my vacation. In rushes the mingled scents of jet fuel, sea water and tropical flowers, all carried on moist warm air. At the moment, your vacation is all in front of you, all possibility, and everything is perfect.

Looking forward to seeing Alain at AAA, then making that drive to Orient Bay. Gotta go thru Marigot and it's Fat Tuesday and the night of Carnavale. Driving thru the thousands of people that will be out this evening is gonna take some doing. We were in the same situation last year, and had a jeep that allowed us to do some adventuresome driving to get thru the backest back alleys of Marigot. Still took some time.

I'm also looking forward to that moment that you crest the hill that gives you the big sweeping view of the bay at Grand Case. That's another great sliver of vacation time - the first big vista you see. Then we arrives at Orient Village, find our apartment, have a glass of wine, and chill out.

It seems to me I have done all this before. And I have. Like many of you here, going to St Martin is becoming like visiting an old friend. It's easy, it's comfortable, it's fun, and now it's even nostalgic. And all too short. I have 9 days this year, and I intend to make the best of it.

If you hang around, I'll tell a few stories.