Well, when to get an Egg McMuffin one morning and your total cost is $2.21, then the next day, you get a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit with a drink . . . which has to be more than $2.21 . . . but your ticket comes out with order 221 printed on it, and you're on your way to 221B Con . . .
I'm not sure what that means.
But when your tire pressure light comes on crossing the river from Illinois to Kentucky and you roll into Paducah just before it goes irreparably flat, well, I suppose those odd occurrences were just the universe's way of telling you to do what you gotta do to get to the Perimeter Marriott in Atlanta.
Not that you wouldn't want to do that anyway.
Unfortunately, "James Sanders Drive" where I spent to night in Paducah wasn't "James Saunders Drive" like I first thought it was, which would have been appropriate, since the first Sherlockian I eventually saw upon arriving was a member of the Sir James Saunders Society for Sherlockian dermatologists. And the pair of new tires I had to get to resume my trip weren't Dunlop or Palmer, but then I'm not driving a Ford. (All of which makes you wonder if there is a Sherlockian out there SO devout they purchase Canonical brands wherever possible.
But the rest of the trip went quickly, even if passing "Patti's 1880s Settlement" is always tough. (Their website doesn't evoke Sherlock Holmes's London, unfortunately, so too big of a regret. Let me know if you know better on that.)
Three or four hours in the hotel bar with a table full of Sherlockians and you know you're definitely at 221B Con, even though things don't officially start until tomorrow afternoon. Which is good, because I definitely need some rest . . .