A Not-So-Jolly start

My vacation to the beautiful island of Antigua did not begin well. 

And by the way, it's pronounced Antiga. The u is silent. Which is confusing for someone like me who loves guacamole.

"....Uh, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Inaudible from the flight deck, looks like there's some nasty late afternoon weather in Miami and the tower is lining up all the incoming flights, we should be on the ground in twenty minutes."

Being a white knuckle flier, I know that late afternoon weather in Miami means thunderstorms. Big semi-hurricane-like, wing-ripping thunderstorms. I immediately reach for my iPhone and dial up the turbulence map. 

Oh yeah, I'm one of those crazy control freaks who likes to see who all the possible microcells of unstable weather that might be the cause of my demise. I've entertained the notion of running up to the cockpit, warning the pilots of the ominous red blobs indicating danger and actually suggesting alternate, smoother flight paths. You know, in case they're not up to date on the impending doom as I am.

Ms. Muse grabs my hand from across the aisle. Then immediately pulls away. My palms are clammier than a freshly shucked oyster. She rolls her eyes and goes back to reading her book: The Heretofore Unknown Joys of Dating a Man of Hebraic Seasonings. 

I make a quick dash for the two lavatories at the rear of the new 737 plane. 

These newer Boeing versions, feature new overhead compartments designed to accommodate even more carry on luggage. I'm convinced they found the extra room by taking it from the onboard bathrooms, which are now impossibly narrower than a human torso. 

Thankfully, due to my recent weight loss I am able to shimmy my way in. As I exit the room -- and I use that word lightly and could never again be used for Mile High Club activities -- I cajole the flight attendant for a mini bottle of Jack Daniels. Sensing my apprehension, mostly because I told her, she hands me two.

"...Uh, ladies and gentleman, this is Captain Inaudible again from the flight deck. We're gonna circle around for a bit while we wait for the weather to yield. Just sit back and enjoy the flight. We'll have you on the ground shortly."

I switch from the turbulence map to the flight tracker live map. I mentioned I was a control freak, right?

Even at 37,000 feet above sea level the human body can sense the gravitational forces. One circle, 5 miles above terra firma, begets another and another and another. Had I been thinking correctly I would have snapped a screen grab. But the whiskey and the Ativan had clouded my already-cloudy thinking.

Suddenly that Sunset Pool Cottage at Coco's Hotel in lovely Jolly Harbor seemed to getting further and further away. And for 180 degrees of each turn, it was.

"...Uh, ladies and gentlemen, Captain Inaudible again, the unexpected delay has put a crimp in our fuel supply, so we're gonna hop on over to Tampa. We'll top off the tanks and get back up in the air in about 20 minutes. We appreciate your patience."

I take umbrage at his cavalier casual attitude. Even a small child could tell you, 20 minutes in airline-speak means 60 minutes. And that's if everything goes according to plan. It rarely does.

I twist off the cap on my second mini-bottle.

"Bourbon, take me away."