Our plane landed safely (this time) in Montego Bay where we took a shuttle bus to the Blue Harbor hotel. A friendly local named Easton worked there, and brought us a T.V. with HBO. We hardly watched it, but I got the impression that we were getting special treatment since the rooms had no television in them already. Ice in Jamaica is probably imported, and comes in large blocks wrapped in brown paper that they have to break apart with a hammer. These blocks of ice are stored in coolers that keep them cold, but aren't capable of freezing water. The freezer part of the refrigerator in our hotel room wasn't cold enough to produce ice, that's for sure. We had the hotel to ourselves, with a pool right outside our room and an outdoor bar. I found a newspaper that someone had left on the bar, which was some pretty interesting reading. It appeared to be English, but completely ignored what we would consider to be proper grammar. For example, they would refer to a criminal as a "bad man", or use contractions that we never would. It rained off and on while we were there but it was warm and felt good. We were on the beach by 10:00 every morning, and I NEVER felt hungover or tired when I woke up. There was a bar on the beach, where Brian was chasing young girls up and down the beach as usual. One night, we went to a two-story bar called Margaritaville (no relation to Jimmy Buffet). It had a water slide from the second story that went into a secluded cove in the ocean. It was closed, however, due to weather conditions.

We also visited Negril with its 7 miles of beaches (clothing optional). I rented a jet-ski and had a few red stripes. They drive like maniacs, and once we came to a complete stop in the middle of the main road while the driver had a conversation with someone standing on the shoulder while cars flew past us, missing us by a few inches.

There were several stands along this road, which was one of the few major arteries extending around the entire island, selling fruit (among other things), and the people were very friendly and relaxed. I got my hair braided, and got to try jerk chicken and sugar cane. We climbed a waterfall from the ground up in Negril, and formed a people chain so nobody would fall off, but I still expected someone to go hurtling off the edge. I had a great time (except for the trip home), and I recommend it to everyone.

With ATA, you're on vacation...or death row. About twenty minutes after take-off from Montego Bay, we were flying merrily along our little way at an altitude of about 30,000 feet. I started getting a slight headache, but didn't think much about it. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the oxygen masks fall down...dead silence and everybody freezes for about 7 seconds. We look around, we look at each other... we panic. The stewardess tells us to put on our masks and remain calm. REMAIN calm. I wasn't calm to begin with, for Christ's sake. The woman across the aisle from me starts rocking back and forth, crying and hyperventilating (that wasn't what anyone needed to hear at that point).

There wasn't any oxygen or anything coming through the masks, either, it's just a piece of rubber that barely fits over your mouth with a hose connected to it and a rubber band to supposedly hold it on your head. I guess there are alot worse places to die than in the coral reefs of the Carribean, but somehow I felt cheated by American Transit Airlines.

We dropped from an altitude of about 30,000 feet to 5,000 feet in about 5 minutes. It felt like we were going down, down into the sea to our watery graves. As it turns out, the pilot had to drop altitude quickly because we were losing air pressure in the cabin. I kept changing from a state of panic and intense fear to a calm acceptance of my death, but the panic and fear part seemed to win more often.

I watched the stewardess's worried facial expressions while she talked to someone who couldn't do a damn thing for us on the red emergency phone. Then I would look out at the ocean looming ever closer and wonder if sharks would like the way I tasted. I waved goodbye to my friends (I couldn't talk very well with the mask on), and held on. We ended up flying over Cuban airspace (about a week after that guy's private plane got shot down over Cuba) and made an emergency landing in Orlando, Florida.

We sat in the Orlando airport for 6 hours while they checked out the plane. We couldn't leave the airport since we didn't know when we would have to take-off again. I foolishly assumed we would be getting on a different plane, since the last one practically killed us. Nope...get back on that plane you lab rats, we'll kill you yet. O.k., fine...here we go again. We flew to the St. Louis airport without incident, and were greeted by seven degree weather and snow flurries. Ahhhhhhh...home sweet home.

In a pathetic attempt at reconciliation, ATA sent everyone on that plane a coupon for fifty bucks off their next flight with ATA. A COUPON TO GET ON ANOTHER OF THEIR PLANES?...I think not. However, it was Brian's first time on an airplane, and I find that amusing.