When we left off our intrepid heros were trapped in horrible horrible Annecy, having a truly horrible time.
The audio visual guru finally arrived the next day and began doing whatever it is that those guys do to try and get the feedback out of the audio track. it was a complicated take seeing that we had 5 cameras mounted inside the Cirrus which were also hooked into our headsets and the radio. Marcio and I could only pace nervously back and forth hoping for a quick fix because we’d heard that Cory and Pete getting ready to leave Reykjavik soon and if we didn’t leave soon we’d lose the race.
But it wasn’t to be. the AV guru climbed out of the plane shook his head and said something to the effect of damned if I know. Great.
We called the boys and told them that unless had problems over their last ocean leg they would arrive in Scotland victorious, before we could even get off the ground. And not only that it looked like we’d be stuck in Annecy for at least another day and as long as they were flying this way would they care to drop on in and join us in our French hell hole? They would, they would indeed.
Now what? we’d lost the bet and were still grounded. Stuck in France on the company’s dime with nothing to do but wander back through the medieval to our 5 star hotel until it was time to sit through another meal of that terrible French cuisine. It was to weep.
But wait! Didn’t we have a bottle of Scotch in the plane? We did. And although we did owe it the boys for winning the bet we weren’t obligated to give it to them full to the top were we? We were not.
To be continued: