I sing of your beauty Mysterious Lady of the Sea,
I sing of your beauty Ix’Chel,
I sing of your beauty Cozumel,
We try not to go dive to spots we have visited before, there’s just too much to discover, but some of us really needed a break and the deal was very good (I’m not saying we’re cheap, but you know, thrift and all that). So bags were packed, coworkers were informed, and a taxi, with the worst suspension this side of the gold rush, took us to the airport in the dead of night. It was raining hard as we walked into the terminal, hard enough to wash away all the broken dreams that hang around airports and leave a glistening sheen of silent promises. Orange cones were all over the place, like so many hustlers trying to make the most of what you’ve got. The terminal has been under construction for the last 17 years or so. Someone’s lining their pockets, probably someone called Little Joe but weighs 300 pounds. Welcome to Montreal.