Jumby Bay
Chapter 2
June 1999 - Tampa, Florida
Pelican. Any of several large fish-eating birds of the family Pelencanidae
having a large bill with a prominant, distensible throat pouch. The pouch allows the
bird to scoop up a large mouthful of seawater and drain it to get the fish.This large bird
is often seen resting its huge head and bill on its breast, but it peforms spectacular
dives through the air straight down into the water in pursuit of its prey. The Pelican is
totipalmate, all four toes are fully webbed.
Miami is a fun place to visit, but don’t ever make a connecting flight there unless you absolutely, positively can't avoid it. Every time I travel through Miami there's a big problem with weather, equipment or the erratic airline schedule. Right now we’re forced to wait on the tarmac in Tampa, waiting for the skies to clear. There is this strange rule that whenever lightning is detected within seven miles of the airport, no one can leave the gate. You can wait six minutes and fifty-nine seconds and if lightning strikes the clock starts all over again. Imagine being cramped in a steamy commuter plane, stuck on the runway in stifling heat. Dante's circle of hell couldn't have been much worse. The pilot had turned off the AC to save fuel. We were dying with no relief and no way to get off the plane. Pure torture.
The first time I went through Miami we had engine trouble on an old Mexicana DC-10 from Cancun. I vowed never to do it again. So much for vows. On yet another trip I was stranded by Cayman Airways overnight. Now we're delayed out of Tampa due to weather. We're worried about making the connecting flight in Miami. We'd been invited to a six-day all expenses paid vacation as wedding guests of a billionaire American businessman at an ultraposh resort located on a private island reachable only by ferry from the island nation of Antigua. We were certain it would be worth the hassle.
We finally took off two hours late and after a bumpy flight we landed in Miami, raced across the runway to waiting buses in a driving rain where we were then whisked to the international departure terminal. I ran to the gate followed by a gaggle of other guests who were booked on the same puddle jumper. The agent took my boarding pass, but the companionway door was locked. We pounded on the glass until someone came to open the door. We asked the attendant to hold the plane for the stragglers. As we boarded the Antiguan-bound jet we were greeted by none other than Jack Hammond, our friend and benefactor, with his immediate family and staff. I thought that he was already down there preparing for his wedding, but he had been sitting in the first-class section for two hours waiting for the skies to clear. He didn't look very happy. Maybe the long wait on a crowded plane was getting on his nerves.
As the 737 began its take-off roll down the wet Miami runways, we knew our luggage would never make it, but we were relieved, finally headed for a wedding celebration beyond our wildest imagination on Jumby Bay.
© Copyright 1999 by Patrick M. Finelli. All rights reserved. These pages are protected by United States and international copyright laws. Copying or distribution by any means is strictly prohibited.