After what felt like the longest night of all time - spiced with edgy nerves because neither of us had thought to bring something to cover the van windows - the dawn slowly started creeping up across the far horizon of ocean.
Mim suggested we walk the beach. So, I secured a big green trash bag around my cast (broke a foot two weeks before the trip) & off we went.
It was super cool, just the two of us on the long shoreline, the sun making its daily debut. To this day, can remember the calm, the hush.
Hushed, that is, until we heard the roar of jet engines far to our north & looked up to see three planes, side by side, coming straight toward us. As they passed directly over us, they tipped their wings in unison, then roared down the beach & finally out of sight.
Mim looked at me, I looked at Mim - had we REALLY experienced it, or was it some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination?
The sun was now well above the horizon. Still dazed by what we'd seen, Mim suggested heading back to the car & trying to bag some more shut eye before figuring out a) where to have breakfast & b) where to watch the launch.
Strange but true, we managed to fall asleep, in spite of the light streaming in the windows. Both of us were sacked out when we were jarred awake by a loud banging on the window. We looked up to see a very agitated man, yelling at us, "Hey, you in the van with the Pennsylvania license plate!"
YIKES!!!
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