That's an...AIRPLANE!

So. We are going back to memories of St. Martin.

The airport in St. Martin is right next to the beach we always went to. Well, not the beach we WENT to, more like the beach we drank by. It looks like this.

So, the first night we were there, my sisters, me, and our friends went out to the bar that was right by where this picture takes place. One night, everybody was having some drinks, and we decided to walk across the beach to go into town. Where we had more drinks. Then, we were walking back on the beach, when we hear this extremely loud noise (go figure) coming towards us.

Now, I understand that even though this is considered one of the world's most dangerous airports (I did some research), there is no way that the planes even touch the beach, let alone run someone over. So our friends, who come here all the time, were not frightened at all by this occurrence. But when my sisters and hear a plane coming towards us and see the bright light that's on the front of the plane, we kind of freak out.

I mean, it's reasonable. Right?

So we start yelling and flailing and running across the beach. The plane just goes over us and it turns out it was a very small plane. It was not the Air France. And our friends just laughed at us, as they were completely unphased.

But still, it's still like "that is a GODDAMN plane, and it's HEADED THIS WAY!"

You know what's funny? When the power steering on your car just shits the bed. And steering becomes equivalent to pulling a fat kid out of the mud.

So my dad makes his rum and cokes like this:

Rum=85%
Coke=15%

So when he "falls asleep" on the couch with a drink in his hand, it usually slips out of his hand and it spills everywhere. My mom constantly wakes him up and tries to take it away to put on the table, but he always takes it back, like she is trying to take away his teddy bear.

So tonight, I'm sitting on the couch and I see that my dad has fallen asleep. It is just the two of us, and I know that it will spill eventually. I received a phone call, and I went into the kitchen. It is a few minutes later that I see that my dad has woken up. Upon walking into the kitchen, I see that he is walking like he has just gotten off of a horse. Then I see that his pants are wet. And I know that it has happened.

My sister Sally used to do this with red wine. Which is obviously a very different story. Things were ruined, hearts were broken, spirits were crushed. It was anarchy.

I am not like this. I am an expert. Although that is definitely not something to be proud of.

-Jenny