The flight in was the usual - racing across JFK to reach the Aer Lingus terminal, attempting to sleep on the plane while some poor guy tries to figure out how to calm his screaming toddler, seeing cows lounging on a field by the runway as we landed...
Other clues we might be in Ireland - the plane captain's name was William Butler, and the flight attendants offered us very strong tea. Plus, I heard one of them mutter "Two beef, or not two beef" under his breath in a lovely Irish lilt while he was serving dinner. Shakespeare wasn't Irish, of course, but comedy is comedy.
Safe and sound and slightly jet-lagged.
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