COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 9)

Most hurricanes blow into an area, devastate it, and blow out within hours. Hurricane Wilma planted herself on Cozumel for two full days. A cruise ship pier was destroyed. Along the San Miguel promenade, restaurants, shops and bars were eviscerated. The national park of Chankanaab experienced catastrophic damage and our five-star resort was blown to bits. Sixty-three people died in the storm and the area suffered $29 billion in loss.

Thousands of tourists crowded Cancun and waited days for planes to get them home. They sweated out the time in stifling shelters set up in schools. Some were given care kits, each containing a sheet of plastic and a bag of potato chips.

From all reports, the Mexican people remained gracious hosts under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Many of their own homes were in rubble, yet they continued to help stranded foreigners find food and water.

We flew into Mexico City, changed planes and continued on to Los Angeles. At the end of the long day I crawled into bed and fell asleep. William stayed up. The house was quiet until I woke up screaming from a nightmare.

Do you think there's a tiny part of us that would like to experience the drama of a hurricane?

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 8)

Mexicana Airlines had one daily flight out of Cozumel, and it was entirely booked — with a ten-person waiting list. We were told we could get seats for the following day. But we didn't want to return to the hotel and so became numbers eleven and twelve on the waiting list.

The flight was scheduled to leave at 12:45 p.m.

The clock read 10:15 a.m. and we sat. We waited. I prayed.

We waited.

I ate my sandwich. A woman wept at the Continental counter. Lines of tourists wove through the airport. A low-level hum rang with worry.

I read my book, In Cold Blood, and thought how things could have been worse. I could've been a Kansas farm girl in 1959. I wished I hadn't eaten the whole sandwich.

At noon we went back to the Mexicana counter and were told we were way too early. But it's going to leave in 45 minutes, I squeaked.

We sat back down.

At 12:20 we were told, We just don't know.

We sat back down.

The amount of people in the small airport had tripled in two hours.

At 12:35 we crept back to the counter, nervous of another rebuff. The damn flight was scheduled to leave in ten minutes.

You can have the two last seats, the ticket agent said.

Really?

Yes, they won’t be together, but they're yours.

A lucky break.

Things happen in threes.

We held hands and walked across the tarmac. I looked back from the top of the boarding stairs and saw that the sun had disappeared. Dark clouds were rolling toward us.

As the plane lifted off and I watched the coastline in the distance, I thought about Rosa, the dining room hostess, and Enrique, our waiter, and Liuva, Mrs. PR. What about those families playing on the beach? Where would they go and what would happen to their homes?

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 7)

The Florida couple was supposed to know all about hurricanes. I had privately designated them our "go-to" people. Now, not only were they perusing timeshares, but her hair was braided in one of those stupid vacation hairdos with little beads.

Wait a second....

"Mrs. PR" finally showed up and did her best to reach the airline. It was hopeless. The line rang busy, busy, busy because other people had apparently watched CNN.

Next to her, "Mr. PR" struggled to draft a statement about a possible hotel evacuation. He repeatedly checked with her on phrasing.

What's the status here, anyway? William asked him.

Everything is "as usual" until the government makes an official statement.

A sunburned woman came up to William, utterly frantic.

"I'm so afraid of hurricanes. I don’t know what to do. The hotel won’t tell me what to do," she said.

You have to decide what to do, William said. The hotel isn't going to tell you what to do.

It was good advice. We should have taken it ourselves some time ago.

We decided to change our tickets at the airport. William went up to the room to pack and I returned to the dining room to make peanut butter sandwiches. I was convinced these sandwiches would save our lives no matter what happened.

A curious hostess watched as I spread peanut butter and added sliced bananas. She'd never seen that combination before. I highly recommended it, but stopped myself before pitching the value of potassium. Time was of the essence. She handed me take-out containers and gave me a cheery good-bye.

At the reception desk, a staff member clipped off our yellow hotel ID bracelets. They offered a final cocktail, but we declined and scrambled into a taxi.

COZUMEL: October, 2005 (Part 6)

William, can you sleep?

No, you're talking to me.

We have to get out of here. We can't hole up in the bathtub with a couple of blankets, travel Scrabble and a bag of peanuts.

He put his arms around me.

We'll figure it out in the morning. Try to sleep.

At best, my sleep was fitful. I dozed, woke with nightmares, then drifted off and jolted back awake. Over and over.

Morning finally arrived. I opened the sliding doors and my glasses instantly fogged up. The sky was clear and the sun shone, but the air was full of humidity.

Bleary-eyed, we made our way down the five flights of stairs to the lobby. I wondered what we would find. Would there be pandemonium? Maybe we'd waited too long and would encounter an angry, panicked mob demanding help from the hotel staff.

We reached the main floor and heard...soft jazz. Through the tall windows I saw guests slathering on sunblock and splashing in the pool. Some of them were laughing.

Wait a second....

In the center of the lobby a small crowd of people gathered, but they didn't look the least bit worried. We went to the Guest Services desk and were told the PR woman who could change our flights would be in at nine o'clock. We were advised to have breakfast and come back later.

What are those people doing? William asked, nodding toward the group.

Oh, they're going on the Tulum tour. Would you like to go?

Wait a second....

In the dining room, couples giggled over Mimosas and Bloody Marys. Families heartily gobbled up French toast and pancakes. Waiters cleared plates and brought out trays of bacon and ham. William choked down a bowl of cereal and I played with my scrambled eggs. Mostly we had coffee.

At nine o'clock sharp we arrived back the PR desk. We drummed our fingers on the counter, checked and rechecked the clock. Across the lobby, an attractive couple signed up for a scuba tour.

Over in a corner, the Hurricane Andrew couple appeared to be meeting with — really? — a salesperson. Were they buying a timeshare?

I nudged William. Look, they're about to purchase a pile of mud. Didn't her sister call with weather updates? Hasn't anyone here watched CNN?