After departing Guana Cay early Saturday morning to coincide with there being water in our slip when we returned to Marsh Harbour, we had a beautiful docking back at the Jib Room. We worked on a gargantuan list of chores we needed to do before leaving the boat Sunday. Mike made his daily gymnastics endeavor in the lazarette where the autohelm is enclosed to disconnect it for refurbishing this week.
After he was upside down for a few hours and worked upright for several more, and after I was thoroughly saturated in Murphy's Oil Soap, we showered and went to the Jib Room bar for drinks and another Steak Night. On our arrival, we noticed this new addition to the bar:
What's that say?
Ah, Stephen's revenge for the previous Steak Night . . . (see movie posted Dec. 10). This steak night was much quieter, with our primary entertainment being the new Jib Room employee, Ed, the Bahamian cowboy.
Sunday morning, we headed to the Marsh Harbour Airport (MHH) to catch a flight to West Palm Beach, to catch a flight to Newark, to catch a flight to Raleigh. Yes, that would be over 2,000 miles in order to go home, which is less than 500 miles away.
Hmmm . . .
We actually like this airport. Here's the back, along with the expression mirrored by all 9 of us on board this full flight.
Mike noted that even the pilots hold hands during takeoff.
Views of Marsh Harbour during ascent . . . (fine, so maybe my camera doesn't happen to have an "on/off" button, whatever that is . . .).
From the back of our next flight, PBI to EWR, we noticed that boarding was taking longer than usual and began to think about our upcoming 41-minute connection (for the last flight from EWR to RDU of the day). Then we noticed a sheriff's department car next to the plane. Then we noticed a bit of commotion, followed by seeing a marshal escort a gentleman from the plane.
No worries--whatever it was is over now. Except then we heard a woman screaming. And another marshal entering the plane. And then the woman screaming more loudly. And then the marshal carrying the handcuffed woman from the plane. And then the pilot asking for everyone to fill out incident reports. And then the pilot saying that the weather in Newark had deteriorated, and we were now grounded for a while.
So, here is a picture of Mike outside the Newark airport in 35°F with no jacket and no bags for either of us. As we stand in the drizzle. As we wait 20 minutes for a bus (which gave us time to calculate that we have been "disconnected" in 60% of our international flights. Except that PBI to EWR isn't international. Whatever.)
Our bags caught an earlier flight than we were able to, so no problems there. As we exited baggage claim Monday morning-ish, the fire alarm began sounding. We burst out laughing, ran straight to the taxi stand, and never looked back (well maybe once), grateful to be out of the building before more drama unfolded.
Home sweeeeeeeet home!
2 comments (click to comment or to read comment):
i think people at the jib room are gonna have to alter that sign - i think our whole holiday crew loves jager bombs!! 8 days in counting! whatch out!
I'm going to leave the jager bombs to you 5. I've never even had one, remarkably. I'll stick with my fufu girly drink (tequila shots).
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