Thank you for flying Air Jamaica, enjoy your stay!

Ahhh, those words.

Now I can unbuckle my seat belt and get this party started.

Walking down the aisle, book bag on my shoulder and i'm smiling from ear to ear.

The stewardess standing at the door must think i'm, a nut.

"Good bye, hope you enjoyed your flight' she says.

I did, but the best is yet to come!

I step out into the air, The heat hits you right away.

"just make it down those stairs Mark, don't trip up now.
When that last foot hits the tarmac, heaven, i'm in heaven, and my heart beats so, that i can hardly speak.

Nice ladies singing that "welcome to Jamaica song'
I'm still smiling like a mad hatter.

Through customs and immigration and the doors, the magic doors are the only thing separating me from paradise.
Made it!

Taxi, you need taxi, taxi? taxi mon.
No, no thanks, I'm fine. no.

Where is Nick?
My man Nick, the best driver in town is picking me up.
Hmmmm, he has a whit Toyota.

Gazing out over the parking area I see 10,000 white toyotas.

I position myself close to the curb, looking, looking for long dread locks and a smiling face.

"Him not coming" some guy says.
No man, i say, he's very reliable.

"here, use my cellie phone, call him"

Ok, he hands me the phone.
I dig into my pocket, retrieve the # and press the digits.

"YO, whagwan?"
Nick its me!

Mark?" " where are you mon"?, he says.

I just made it outside and a nice gentleman offered me his cellie to make sure you remembered, HA Ha Ha.

Yeah mon, I'm in Mobay, be right there.
Cool, ok Cool.
Click!
Here's your phone.
The guy had a sad look on his face, but i did use his phone, so I give him a buck.

People watching at the airport is so cool.

All kinds of folks, coming out with the same stupid grin like i had.

Some locals, coming home look more serious and have all kinds of bags and luggage and stuff they are bringing back home.

Folks rush toward each other, hugging and loud talking and sometimes yelling.

It's how Jamaicans roll.

Sheneka, get this bag, Roland help your sister.

Very flashy colored clothes the Jamaican ladies wear.

I have my hand on my suitcase the whole time, i don't know why, it would be very hard for someone to pick up a loaded suitcase and make off with it.

But, i hold on anyway.

Beep beep, beep-beep. I look up and there he is.

One time,he just stayed in the middle of the street.

A Red Stripe officer said something about loading up like that,

but Nick,

as quick as lightning had my stuff in his trunk, shrugged his shoulders and was back in the driver seat before the cop could say 3 more words, and we were off!!

Nick is too cool.

Well worn sandals, a Marino T shirt, blue jeans short pants.

Tha's it.

Long dreadlocks and always a smile.

Smiling, Nick says "No worry bout that cop mon, bummba clot this and bumba clot that".

I just brake out laughing as hard as i can.

The way that he takes things, what I would think of as something serious, he just laughs it off.

Soon, we are peeling out of the airport and passing through construction in MoBay.

I take my first real deep breath and all is well.

Ahhhhhh, nice, Marko; right there with you!

Nice Marko....that must have been a few years ago, since the ladies in traditional garb are no longer singing at the airport (they've relocated to Martha Brae rafting along with some drummers) & there is no longer that walk down the stairs to the tarmac!

I can feel how much you miss being here.