No Nonstop Flights to Heaven

The tickets have arrived. They feel like gold in my hands. Not sure how heavenly they will feel when I am sleeping on the floor at LAX, though. Three layovers in three different countries. Traveling the distance of an SFO - JFK flight in the time it takes to fly from Kansas City to Australia. Nevertheless, on the way there, I'll be feeling no pain. Underwater reverie has already got the better of me.

Roatan or Bust

Oh, Stephanie! Alasia! Carolyn! Jamie!

Calling all CEAD alumni!!! Never forget where we found our pot of gold... at the end of the Arco Iris... Care for another sunset paddle?

I'm afraid the siren call of the Lighthouse is keeping me from my work. I am mentally boarding that Ceiba-Coxen Hole ferry and dreaming of dolphins and flying fish.

July is not too far away and I am determined to SCUBA non-stop for over a week. Steph is coming to make sure I don't metamorphose into a squid. I ironed out every budget detail and $2000 is going to buy me 10 days of unlimited banana pancakes, water taxis, handsome divemasters, and a flight directly to Roatan (no washed out bridges this time, thank you). That $10 taxi to West End doesn't seem so outrageous now! Anybody in for a week of palm tree shade, aqua splendor, and blissfully blistering sunburns?