The flight from BWI to DFW was uneventful, thank goodness. I read and knit my way there. Tom read and maybe slept.
In Dallas we switched to a jet heading to Belize City. As we travelled, more and more clouds popped up until we were flying through something from a Stephen King novel. As we slowed and dropped for the landing, the fog parted and I got a glimpse of trees. As in very close. As in no runway.
At the time, it just sort of passed through my thick skull that it was odd that there didn't appear to be an airport nearby. Right about then, the pilot pulled up and laid on the fuel. That's about when I started to suspect that we'd had a near-miss, an up-close-and-personal interaction with the jungle.
He got it right on the next pass.
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