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I could bitch about the slog to get from St Bart's to the French side of St Martiin to the Dutch side of St Marten to flying to Atlanta to the (wait for it) delay to the flight to JFK to driver who- despite written and repeated directions, tried to take us to 22nd instead of 42nd. But I won't.

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I saw the devastation in French St Martin made me thankful for what I have. 

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