Traveled to Aruba and visited the islands of St. Lucia, Barbados, Curucaos, and the Venezuelan owned Margarita Island. (This trip was pre-Bruce.)

On the way in, we had several connecting flights and ended up on a small commuter plane that almost crashed. Here is where, what I now see as a theme, first occurred. On every trip I have a near brush with death. Our plane stalled in mid air and we free-fell for what seemed too long. When the engines restarted the plane had to quickly land, but whatever the problem was also seemed to effect the brakes. We nearly slid off the Aruban runway and into the ocean before the plane completely stopped. I actually know the feeling of wanting to kiss the ground because nothing was more pleasant than getting off that plane and touching hard concrete.

Fortunately, the rest of the trip was much less eventful...except for the uprising while we were in Venezuela and an armed convoy almost confiscating our bus. Fortunately, our busdriver said something that made the men back off and we drove past, trying not to look too hard at the car in flames next to the side of the road.