… but not all the words of Henry John Deutschendorf Junior’s song are appropriate, as he’s leaving his wife and family to go on a concert tour and confesses to infidelity, so perhaps we’ll just stick with the title. Never heard of Henry John Deutschendorf Junior? He used the stage name John Denver.

After breakfast we did final packing and checked out. Internal seaches of the car showed nothing was left lurking under the seats. So we set off to the airport taking the twisty route which avoided having to go onto the Interstate. The satnav kept trying to get us onto the Interstate, but the Map app on the iPhone was the route I wanted to follow. Eventually on the edge of the airport we found the signs to rental car returns in, surprisingly, Car Rental Return Parkway. I suppose it makes it easier just going to one place and then picking out the hire company while driving round the multi-story car park. It being 10.30 it was quite quiet, so there was only one car in front of us. Having emptied everything out of the car (after 3,807 miles across America) I went to the kiosk and told the two ladies how much I had enjoyed the experience and thanked them for their labours and to pass on our thanks to the company. They were stunned. No one ever, it seems, EVER says thank you to them. They said we must go and meet the manager. So across the road (next to where the shuttle bus ran from) we met Lee the manager. It seems that this is the highlight of his day and he said that he was going to e-mail all the local staff to tell them that a crazy guy from England had actually taken the time to thank them for their services. I also took the opportunity to tell him that the car is probably full of sand (from the sandstorm in Monument Valley) and bits of mattress on the underside (from Amarillo).

The shuttle ride to the international terminal was uneventful—but long. I asked the driver if we were in Tennessee now! We checked the weight of the suitcases. Mine was 54 lbs and Marianne’s 59 lbs. That an extra $100 per bag. So we moved things around. Marianne’s boots went out of my case and into her carry on. That sorted my case out. Hers was more difficult, but we eventually managed to reduce the weight sufficiently. Extra items went into her carry on and we’ve ended up with that bulging and carrying coats. It must have provided great entertainment for the staff. With the time of day being what it is, 11.30am by now, there were hardly any passengers around. We didn’t have to queue at all, so there was no embarrassment of holding people up. Security was fine too. No queue at all, straight through all the scanners, so now we’re sitting in the departure lounge, at gate F6, waiting to board in about 7 hours time. It’s going to be a long wait. At least there’s free power here and cheap wifi, so I can check e-mail, surf, and maybe even write. Doubtless I’ll add more to this later this afternoon.

LATER

How to while away the time. Wander to the end of the departure lounge. Wander round the newsagent, examine the different kinds of wrapped sandwich. How many different varieties of bottled water can their possibly be? See a book about Barack Obama that proves he really is an American, is not a Muslim, that he actually attended the educational establishments he said he did (there was an advert on last night that still maintains his birth certificate is fake, his qualifications are fake, there is no one who remembers him at school, or Harvard and so he must be a Muslim plant or even an alien).

Our 767 arrived at about 2.20pm. It can’t be the one that arrived from Manchester , as that only landed 20 minutes earlier at a different gate. I suggested to Marianne she might like an economy plus seat as you get four extra inches for only £52 each, but she prefers sleeping in an uncomfortable position (which probably means resting on me and keeping me awake!).