Look! Up in the sky! It's ... it's ... it's not going to land here tonight!

Hearing about all the recent changes to airline travel - cost saving measures, charges for checked baggage, charges for food and beverage - got me thinking about the good old days, when the customer was king ... or was he/she?

I seem to recall that even when there were more (though not necessarily more affordable) flights in and out of the Caribbean, travelers were still at the mercy of any number of elements beyond their control, or comprehension. Though, admittedly there were fewer hassles in terms of baggage and carry-on restrictions, in the pre-pre-911 era, air travel was not without its excitement - and a story to tell at the end of it all!

Picture this: St. Kitts, October 1988. My friend, Miss M (a Canadian ex-pat )and I were living at the only real resort on the island. OK, she was living there, while I was on a very, very extended stay - I say this because, technically, I didn't actually have a work permit, but I was definitely working there! Anyway, her older sister, Miss V was visiting from Toronto and we thought it would be a nice treat for her if we went over to St. Martin for the day. A nice shopping expedition was the goal, since there really wasn't much to buy in St. Kitts and Nevis back in those days. Yes, I know, some would argue there still isn't much to buy there these days either.

We had been looking forward to perusing some of the more expensive items on the French side of St. Martin and then booting it over to the Dutch side to do some serious haggling over leather goods and jewellery. I was intent on buying a nice little black cocktail dress that I had seen on a previous shopping trip. So, we negotiated our time off with "de boss" and off we went. There was one stipulation, however. Since "de boss" had bestowed the kindness of approving a day off during the working week, he asked us to look into buying a few television sets for the recently completed rooms in the new wing of the hotel. Oh, and he also asked us to buy a microwave oven while we were at it, for his kitchen. How could we say no? He was our boss, after all. But how were we going to get the goods back to St. Kitts? Apparently, we were supposed to bring everything back with us on our return flight with LIAT the same day. Have you seen the size of those little planes? I couldn't imaging how we would ever get clearance to bring all that stuff back with us.

To ease our anxiety, our boss suggested that his nanny join us. She was a tiny thing, so I was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to carry even one t.v., let alone five of them, plus a microwave oven! Apparently, that was not to be her role. She was, however a pro at arranging taxi vans, and porterage in and out of the island airports. She also knew the ins and out of the St. Kitts customs and inland revenue process. Yes, our Miss S was a real multi-tasker - her skill set went far beyond child care.

Our shopping trip was a great success. Not only did we find the appliances and electronic equipment that we were after, but we accomplished the task in record time! Having taken the first flight out of St. Kitts, Miss S suggested we get the boring stuff out of the way and head straight for the Dutch side of the island to negotiate the purchases for our boss. There were several cruise ships in port, so the shops had opened up early. In no time at all, we had the t.v. sets, microwave oven and some kitchen utensils purchased, paid for and the way-bills for same day shipping on our flight all arranged. Miss S had arranged for a taxi van to to get the goods to the airport by the designated time and now we were on our way to the French side, where we had loads of time to enjoy a lovely late breakfast of croissants, French pastries (naturally!) and cafe au lait, while we sat at a lovely cafe near a marina. This was heaven for me, as I love pastries and coffee any time, and I was able to do some choice people-watching too!

We also had more than enough time to shop the chi-chi boutiques of the French side to buy my little black cocktail number and we also found an orange bikini for Miss V, a Gucci handbag for me, school supplies (did I mention that Miss M was a nursery school teacher?) and t-shirts for Miss M and Miss S. Then off for a late lunch and a more people-watching at the marina, and finally back to the airport - where the real fun was about to start.

We reached the airport two hours ahead of our scheduled flight - the same time we had instructed the taxi driver to deliver our electronic goods. I had been in the Caribbean since August, so by now I had learned all about "island time" and was not about to panic when there was no sign of the guy - until an announcement was heard over the airport loud-speakers that all scheduled flights to St. Kitts were about to be re-shuffled due to some bad weather conditions. Funny, here in St. Martin, it was sunny, beyond warm, with barely a breeze to keep us from wilting after a hard day of shopping, haggling and eating.

Terror began to grip me as I recalled the stern look de boss had on his face as he uttered his instructions to me the previous night, "don't come back without the t.v.'s - those rooms have to be finished before the next golf group arrives at the hotel next week. Otherwise I am sending you back to Canada!" Of course, I knew he was kidding - he had a very dry sense of humor - but, well, what if he wasn't? I was kind of loving my time in the islands. Especially as it was an early winter back home, and frankly, what would you rather be doing in your spare time after work? Drinking cold Caribs on a funky little beach on a yet-to-be-discovered tropical paradise, or braving the dreary rains and early snow falls of an Ontario late autumn just to get to your car, the transit stop ... or ... well, you get the picture! I wasn't about to test the man's threat - I knew that I had a good thing here.

So, I scrambled to find a pay phone to call the store where we made the purchases. I was informed that the driver did indeed leave with the goods several hours before, but where was he? Lordy, I paced and paced, smoked cigarette after cigarette, when suddenly, like a vision the man appeared through the front entrance of the airport all sweaty and distressed. Evidently, he had been in a fender-bender accident with a bus load of tourists. Did I ask him if he was OK or if anyone else was hurt, for that matter? Nuh uh. All I could muster up was "what about my t.v.'s?" Oh, what a cold-hearted wench I was in those days!

You would think that "all's well that ends well," right? Nuh uh, again! Surprisingly, we had no difficulty checking the goods in with the LIAT desk agent, however, he could not guarantee that the seven boxes would get on the same flight that we were scheduled on. They were to be divided among our flight and the one following us. In those days, there were numerous flights per day between St. Kitts and St. Martin, at least in theory. But, of course, this was not a normal day. As if there was ever such a thing in the Caribbean! What was concerning me was the fact that we had just been informed that the last two flights of the day were cancelled. After our flight, there would only be one more headed for St. Kitts, so we and our stuff had to be on one of those flights or risk being stranded overnight. The LIAT personnel were more than accomodating, as there were extra seats on the next flight. The issue was how much stuff would fit into the cargo holds of each plane, as it seemed that everyone who was anyone in St. Kitts and Nevis was over in St. Martin shopping that day. Apparently they have good sales in St. Martin in November. But what did it matter, if we never made it home?

As we tried to work out who would go on which flight with which configuration of boxes, another announcement came over the loud-speakers, but it was so garbled that I didn't understand a word. All I remember was that all four of us were coralled onto a waiting plane through a chaotic flurry of hand gestures and shouts from various airport staff and ground handlers. By the time we were seated all I had understood was that the flight was leaving NOW, even though newly re-issued tickets were for the next flight. As I gazed out the little window of the LIAT plane - the kind with propellors - no jet engines here - all I noticed were our boxes on the ground and a guy on the tarmac with the flag giving our pilot the go-ahead to proceed.

So, off we went, airborne and appliance-less. Due to some unusual climatic conditions, according to the flight crew, we were going to fly lower than usual, and all I remember was that our plane seemed to shake, rattle wheeze and rumble all the way to St. Kitts. Most of the short flight seemed to be side-ways as the plane struggled to remain level over the open seas. Again, I found it strange that there was not a cloud in the sky. The sea was a gorgeous shade of turquoise, though it did seem to be more turbulent with large swells, the likes of which I had not seen since my arrival in the Caribbean 4 months earlier. I also noticed that the pilot seemed to be having a heated debate with someone over his radio equipment. This did not seem to bode well. Oh, how I wished that these little planes had doors between the cockpit and main cabin! Did I really need to see and hear the pilot arguing with someone? And what could be so stress-inducing for him?

I really started to get scared at this point. So much so, that even though I am a lapsed Catholic, I suddenly found myself reciting the rosary on the string of fake pearls that I wore around my neck. After about twenty minutes or so, we noticed out the window the beautiful lush green slopes of the mountain range that dominates the centre of St. Kitts. Ah, home at last, I said to myself! Good, I can stop praying now. But, alas, landing was not on the flight plan ... as we suddenly dipped and the plane did an about-face and headed back out to sea. We circled for a while, as the pilot continued to shout into his radio equipment, though we couldn't hear what he was saying over the roar of the engines. Apparently, he too knew how to mulit-task! By now, it had started to rain, and we continued to circle the island and I began to wonder how safe it actually was to fly in driving rain, while thunder and lightning began to make an appearance in the early evening skies surrounding us?

As we circled the island, the pilot announced that we might not be landing in St. Kitts tonight and would have to land elsewhere. At least, I think that is what he was saying. It was hard to hear, above the sound of the engines and my now racing heart. Indeed, by now it was dusk, and we saw what the real problem was - when we looked out the windows, we noticed what we didn't notice in the dark - there were no lights. The entire island was dark - no runway lights, no flickering street lights in Basseterre - no red flecks of the communication towers. Nothing. Yikes, a power failure! Now, everyone knew that the power went out quite frequently on this and other islands in those days. I had been caught on more than one occasion in my room or on the resort grounds during just such occasions, but I had been told that the airport had a back-up generator. So, why weren't the lights on, at least at the airport? Did they run out of deisel fuel for the generator? It is amazing the questions that arise and the speculation that one engages in when such crisis occur on these small islands. I was really still a newbie to this life, so everything was still a little scary, as I was unclear as to how the problem-solving process worked. I just prayed that I survived to tell about this latest adventure. I really didn't relish the idea of dying on a plane because it fell out of the sky because some bookkeeper on some Caribbean island forgot to pay the deisel bill!

We discovered later that when the power goes out on St. Kitts, there is no communication between incoming planes and the airport. So, our pilot, had, in fact been talking, or shouting to air traffic controllers in Antigua! And the folks in Antigua were on the phone with the airport folks in St. Kitts. Suddenly, as if by magic, the lights along the runway flickered on and the pilot had an opportunity to land our little plane, but he had only one shot at it, so it had to be a quick and efficient landing. The man got us down, but we were all quite frazzled by the time we de-planed. Poor Miss V, she was cursing and swearing at her sister by now and could be heard for hours afterwards muttering under her breath "I don't know why you wanted to come and live on this God-forsaken island! Why did you bring me here? I could have be on vacation in Florida right now ..."

Well, a few days later, Miss V had rediscovered her sense of humor and was telling the story from a slightly different angle - mostly, she delighted in telling everyone how green I looked on the plane as I said yet another Hail Mary on my fake pearls that I had bought in St. Martin! Oh, and she looked pretty good in that orange bikini, as she had yet another guy mesmerized by the story ... or was it the story that was mesmirizing? As for the seven boxes ... they did make it to St. Kitts, but it took days, and it will take another several pages to tell that story.

Oh, and just because this is St. Kitts we are talking about , the story doesn't end here. No, indeedy! Later that night, and well into the next day, yet another plane, this time, a packed charter flight from Toronto went through a whole different adventure and 24 hours spent everywhere but in St. Kitts airspace before its passengers ever reached us at the resort.

But that story will have to wait for another time. Can you stand it?