Back at the hotel I gather up my stuff and head out to a taxi stand I saw on my way to the breakfast place. It says airport on it (I think). The hotel owner tells me that I shouldn't pay more than L20 for a ride to the airport. I get to the taxi stand. There's a small line. I go to the end. Up drives a taxi. The two people in front of me get in the back seat. The taxi stand attendant opens the front door and motions me in. I try to get into the front seat of this little Japanese car with the short driver with the bench seat pulled forward. I put one bag on the floor, put my feet on it, my knees on the dashboard and the attendant hands me the other bag to place in my lap. Then I remember one of the warnings over here: The taxis don't have meters so always negotiate the price first. I start trying to negotiate the price. Yelling "viente lemperia". The taxi stand attendant yells something back but he obviously disagrees with my bargaining. We make sounds back and forth. Well, I'm certainly not going to let them take advantage of this country boy so I start to get out of the taxi. Finally, the attendant holds up four fingers and says "quatro". He left off the "dummy" but it was certainly implied. I stayed in the taxi and off we went.

Cheapest thrill ride I ever had. Along certain sections I just closed my eyes. (A trick I learned from riding with certain friends over here). There were occasions when if my arm had been out the window it would have stayed in Honduras. Finally, the trip settles down into a little calmer pace. The taxi driver says something. I look over and say "Huh?". He says it again. Then I notice: We're right in front of the airport. I get out and pay him the L4 plus (being a big spender), a tip of L1 (9 cents)

After going through the airline check in process and Honduran Immigration again (once more never an opportunity to bribe anyone) I wind up in the departure lounge. It's tremendous when compared to the arrival lounge. Here there are about 6 duty free shops, a couple of snack bars, and a stand selling coffee. I buy a soft drink. It's L8 (vs L2.5 on the outside). Another American custom they have picked up on,

The ashtrays over here have gravel in them. Not sand but gravel. (Which brings up a joke: Johnny: Honduras is a very poor country. Ed: How poor is it? Johnny: It's so poor they have gravel in the ashtrays! I didn't say it was a good joke)

I buy a bottle of some sort of fruit liquor and off to the plane.

The flight was fine. A couple of bottles of wine made the meal much better. The chicken wasn't nearly as good as the beef was on the way over.

Customs at Houston International was a breeze. They just laughed at me when I declared my Oreo Cookies (a food product)