The Pilot That Overslept

Saint Martin, Did You Hear About the Pilot that Overslept?

It’s never a good sign when your first flight to Saint Martin in the Caribbean is late because the pilot overslept.

Well, that is how we started our one-week summer vacation to the Caribbean. What could have kept him from getting to work on time? A really good movie the night before at the hotel? Drinks with other pilots or flight attendants? Spent all night working on a really tough Sudoku. Ok, I guess there could be several reasons, but I just won’t reveal the name of the airline, because maybe it was an honest mistake. Maybe it was a good thing our flight departed late for Chicago, that just left less time waiting for the next delayed flight to Miami.

These delays did give us enough time to watch the filming of an American Airlines commercial (oops, now you know the airline), cancel our room reservation in St. Martin for the night, because there was no way in hell we would make it to St. Martin this evening, and explore the exquisite hidden corners of Chicago O’Hare.

Despite a positive sunny afternoon arrival to Miami, little hope was left catching our final flight to St. Martin. Might as well give it a try. As we exited the jet bridge, monitors revealed that the St. Martin gate literally across the aisle. Surprisingly enough, that flight hadn’t left, it was late too. Y’all noticing a trend here?

Amazingly, we caught our flight.

You HAD a Reservation

The French flight attendant was the highlight of our day. Over the flight across turquoise water, she speckled little travel nuggets of knowledge about hidden gems in the Caribbean (Seba!) and some of our common challenges to raising bilingual kids as a Frenchwoman that spoke English with an Australian accent. To make the final flight a bit sweeter, she slipped us two Heinekens to ease the pain of a treacherous day of delayed flights.

In St. Martin, we learned our bags extended their stay in Miami for an extra night. With our room now having been canceled hours earlier, we were up shit creek without a paddle or reservation. After a little finagling and pulling an original receipt from internet slower than an escargot running the 100 meter dash, the Hotel Beach Plaza granted entrance to a room.

Would You Like a Second Bill with Your Beautiful Breakfast?

What better way to rid the previous day’s stress of delayed flights than a French breakfast looking out over St. Martin’s calm water. Or so we thought. The Hotel Beach Plaza demanded a second payment for the previous night. Anguilla? Is that you? Yes, we’d like to meet.

We jumped on the next ferry heading across Canal D’Anguilla to the ultra relaxed island of Anguilla. Once we set foot on Anguilla, life was better. The very jovial taxi driver, Frank, gave us the quick down low on Anguilla’s history as his van passed a flat island devoid of over construction. Checking into Anaconda Hotel, two Bostonites greeted us and raved about the island nicknamed tranquility wrapped in blue.

Alright, things were looking up.

Next Stop: Anguilla and the beaches!!!