Coming back on Sunday night, 11pm, the deer disturbed by two days of mayhem. Route 219 was sniper alley. A classic Western New York moment as a huge animal, pale in the headlights, bolted out from the blackness and ran across in front of the car, a slam of brakes, hand on the horn, some choice language from the driver. A philosophical shrug. If we'd taken off a few seconds earlier, if the plane had landed at a gate a few steps closer, if the shuttle bus to the airport carpark hadn't waited for more passengers, if the temperature had been a few degrees higher and the car windscreen hadn't needed de-icing, if we'd reached that point in the road a hair's-breadth sooner.....
After a few more bends, another, smaller deer. But we got through unscathed.
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