Au revoir Paris; hello Florence.

Kentucky, that is.

Waking up in full-on travel mode, it was 6am when our duo tossed the key to Yannick, bid him adieu, and smartly hopped a taxi to CDG. 4 hours early with nary a bag to be checked, it wasn't long before they had cleared security and were swilling espresso in the Air France Club Lounge. Foo happily stuffed her pockets with all the edibles she could find—crackers, cheese, cookies, and a pain au chocolat for good measure.

One of the first to clamber on board the 767, Bob's initial disappointment in discovering the lack of individual seat back TVs was promptly offset when the boarding doors closed and he realized there was no one sitting in the seat next to him. This meant nine hours in the air relishing the extra space, enjoying the view of Greenland from the window, and NEVER having to worry about crawling over someone to go pee.

A turbulence-free flight and an easy trip through customs found our heroes heading to the Hilton in Florence, Kentucky for the night before heading home.

Kentucky as you may not know is a Commonwealth, not a State. Can you name another?

Fighting off jet lag, they strolled over to Rafferty's restaurant to find that the local dialect was almost as alien to their ears as French had recently been. "They actually say y'all in this fine burg!" whispered Foo to Bob.

So with a dinner of potato soup, a fillet of beef, and a slice of Kentucky Silk pie—our weary travellers called it a night. For tomorrow would bring one more flight, then home to Mama Foo.