Birds convoy with our boat

We woke up at 3 a.m. to catch a 4:05 shuttle to the airport for a 6:00 flight. Going through Security at O'Hare, we saw a sign saying passengers may request privacy for security screening. I joked that the booth with clear glass walls top-to-bottom in the middle of the security area was the "privacy booth."

On the flight to Fort Lauderdale, the pilot made a special announcement welcoming two teenage brothers sitting next to us as first-time flyers. He also apologized for the turbulence and said we could blame it on the flight attendants.

Flying into Fort Lauderdale, I was amazed to see residential neighborhoods, block after block, street after street, outlined by waterways. Each block an island. Out the front door of your house to your car, out the back door to your boat.

The Fort Lauderdale terminal was crowded. Beth pointed out a pigeon making its rounds on the floor inside the terminal. I made very weak, wishful tea with room-temperature water. Our flight out was overbooked. A young woman sitting across from us volunteered to give up her seat for the payola.

On the plane, Beth found she had a POS (person of size) seat belt, with two buckles.

When we landed in St. Thomas, Liz was waiting for us. A man with an Obama cap assisted us with a taxi. I noticed his "I was at the Inauguration" pin, and told him I wished I could have been there. He said he was in D.C. from January until June. When another man he spoke to was unenthusiastic about driving us (only three passengers), the Obama man drove us to the ferry.

Beth and Liz at the ferry station

Liz and Mike

We waited at the ferry station for about a half-hour, with mostly locals.

The ride was noisy in the rather small boat. A gull joined us, flying just above the bow of the ship, seeming to lead the boat. In a minute or two, a second bird joined him, also keeping perfect pace with the boat. Then in a little while it was three birds. Occasionally, one would peel off and dive for fish, then work to catch up. A tipsy Southerner with a beer in hand whooped.

The clouds were beautiful. We passed by St. John. Beth was queasy. The Southerner's wife gave Beth a peppermint to soothe her stomach. I asked for one, too (just for the taste).

We landed at West End, Tortola, and went through customs. They made me open my bags for a cursory inspection, maybe because I declared food.

An open-air taxi took us over the mountain to Sebastian's On the Beach. When our taxi came around the corner, the guys were hanging out at the corner next to Sebastian's, just like we had read about on the Internet. Liz and Beth bantered that we would have to get to know them, so that they would be our local connection, our protection.

Liz registered, and we checked into our second story room off the back courtyard, then went back down to the beach for dinner.

The beach was next to our table, and the sun was setting. An elderly dog (the waitress said he belonged to the owner) hobbled down to the water, knowing just where to stop to stay dry. After meditating a while, he came back up.