Crab Lice And New York

The plane was a twin engined Dash Q100. I suppose it carried about 40 passengers and island hopped between Antigua and San Juan.

The only seat left when I got on was next to a guy wearing Union Jack shorts and a football shirt. Judging from the frenzied crotch scratching that was going on he had a serious infestation of crab lice.

The plane took off and banked steeply WWII Spitfire style. The seat shifted on its mountings and a couple in front of me held hands across the aisle and began to pray for the plane's deliverance. I prayed that the guy next to me would stop scratching.

Somewhere behind me a young Antiguan was telling those not deep in prayer what to expect when they reached New York.

"It's much bigger than St. John's," he explained knowledgeably. The plane nodded. "When you first gets there you will catch a cold. Everyone does catch a cold first time in New York but you only get it de once. You never catch another one. You becomes immune."

Reassured, the whole plane grunted appreciatively. "Mind you," he added, "you sure got to watch the traffic."