Trip to La Romana - Day One...

3:30 AM. Several inches of snow on the ground. The cab arrives to take us to the airport, where we will fly to Chicago.

I hate flying. No matter how I much I try not to be scared, I am. We boarded the plane and it was a little plane. A little crashy plane. 2 seats on each side, maybe 20-some rows. Our seats were in the first row. I tried to remember if they say your odds are better in the front or back of a plane if it crashes.

The plane started moving and I started breathing harder. Tears were welling up in my eyes. It is so much harder to try not to cry when you are around a plane full of people that will think you are a moron. We took off and I just closed my eyes and listened to R tell me that everything was fine. He ordered me a Vodka and OJ for our short flight and I felt better. After we landed, He told me He didn't realize I really was that scared to fly.

When we were walking off the plane, the lady sitting next to us asked me if that was my first time flying. I told her it was not, and she said "well, I think you did very well for someone who obviously doesn't like to fly." I was only slightly mortified that my fear was so obvious to perfect strangers, and again, felt like the world's biggest moron.

We had a little bit of time before our next flight. It was colder in Chicago than it was in Ohio. We ran outside for a quick smoke (you can't smoke ANYWHERE at O'Hare), came back through security and waited for our plane. I decided to take a Dramamine for that flight - it was about 5 or 6 hours. I don't get motion sickness, but I knew it would relax me.

It did more than just relax me. I felt like I was drugged. I could not stay awake. Fortunately, the plane was not full and I was able to put my feet up in the seat next to me and my head on R's shoulder so I could adequately drool on His shirt. Most of what I remember is R pushing my head back up onto His shoulder 47 times before saying "this isn't working, you need to sit up."

I could not sit up. I just laid my head back and slept. Next thing I know we are over water and preparing to land. Landing is not so bad when you are landing on a tropical island after leaving freezing temperatures and several inches of snow.

The airport was unreal. NY had joked on the way over that our friend told him the airport was a hut. It really was. A big hut, but a hut nonetheless. And when you get off the plane you actually have to go down the steps and walk outside. And it was 80 degrees. And humid. I was about halfway down the steps before I realized what I was feeling. Wonderful humidity, making me sweat in my jeans and sweatshirt. We weren't even into the hut/airport yet and I was in heaven.

We had to fill out an entry form and show our birth certificates. I think we had to pay $10 apiece or something to get in. We went and got our luggage. And the breeze was blowing on us. Because we were in a hut. Outside. And it was warm. Sometime while waiting for our luggage, I forgot about everything back home in freezing Ohio and was ON VACATION.

We had called ahead for a cab, and a guy would be there waiting for us, holding a sign. When R called to book the cab, the owner, Rafael, told him we could have the cab driver for as long as we wanted for the set fee we saw on the website. R asked why there was no time limit and Rafael said, in his rich Dominican accent, "because sometimes people like to stop and get BEERS."

Well, Rafael, yes they do.

Now I speak (very) little Spanish. R doesn't know much. Neither does NY, but T knew a little more. We found our cab driver. We were able to establish that the airport was about 2 hours from the hotel and his "Nombre es Junior".

We loaded the suitcases into the car and grabbed another smoke.

Then I piped up. "Cerveza?"

Junior looked at me and grinned. He held up his hand and said "Cerveza. Cinco minutos."

Sweet.