I went to bed around midnight, thoroughly distraught, and started reading galleys for BWD's next issue, always a surefire soporific when I'm wound up. I fell into a deep dreamless sleep. Woke up at six and tore to the computer, and was delighted to find a message from Beate Porte at Swarovski in Austria, saying that Bill's flight was late and he had made it to Durban two hours late. But he made it. Let's see...that means it took him 19 hours to get to Durban, which is still one hour less than it took him to get to Bangor, Maine.
He's there, he's digiscoping, all is right with the world.
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Here he is, doing his homework for the trip. This is apparently not to be the last photo ever taken of Bill Thompson III. Yes, that's what I was thinking. Now all he has to do is stay clear of Cape buffalo, rhinos, crocs and poisonous snakes. I will not be there to catch them for him.
A vastly relieved Zickefoose, signing off.
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