The port is a mess. Somebody is striking, and everybody VEX. Some drunk and vex, some say is de government, some want to go on Manning nice plane, some say is SLAVERY! Look at Dem, all sitting in de hot sun. One gentleman had been drinking puncheon all day, (note to tourists: avoid puncheon) and educated us with a lengthy soliloquy on the Golden Fleece, the four cardinal points, man's lust for money, snakes (nagas), Du Maurier Cigarettes, and the downtrodden-ness of the Black West Indian. It was all somehow connected, in a meandering and tangential manner, but apparently all Manning's fault. I wish I had taken notes, so that I could remember it all.
Chas said it was better than TV. In fact, I did notice a young man recording the whole thing on his camera.
We have confirmed tickets for tomorrow morning, though! And babies, if that ship sails, we will be on it! If it doesn't; and rumour has it they may shut down in protest to get better wages or conditions or whatever; I am not certain what I will do. I will not be hanging out in hotels any more, though! I will have to leave the van here with a responsible adult, and hitch a lift on a small boat or charter plane and GO HOME. This hotel thing is damn expensive, even the cheap ones. It is digging into my "Going to The States and England in May" fund. Badly.
Sean flashed his pilot's license and hopped on a jump seat this afternoon, and flew home. He has to be at work for six in the morning, so he couldn't stay any longer. So tomorrow I will arrive at the port with a ticket for Sean S, driver of one van. And a ticket for me, not driving anything. I am going to go brave, and hope for the best, in true Tobago fashion.