Just before dark, the guards at the doors to the waiting room called for our attention.
An official said, in heavily accented English, that our plane was now repaired and we were to walk silently out of the terminal with the guards.
Throughout the long and heavy day, we tourists had kept a constant vigil on our small scraps of numbered papers, afraid that we would somehow lose them and be doomed.
Everyone frantically checked their pockets and gave a silent sigh of relief when the official said to have our papers ready. We all had them.
As we boarded the plane, the guards were waiting at the top of the steps with glowering faces, trying to intimidate us even further. It was beginning to tick me off.
They said nothing to us, just thrust out a hand and snatched our papers and passed it to a guard behind them. Now we had nothing to identify ourselves. That was scary.
The second guard checked our numbers with a list and marked it with a pen and passed the number to a third guard, who matched it with the number in the passport.
We were motioned forward and allowed to enter the cabin. It all took forever.
The stewardesses and stewards were a smiling mess. All we were allowed to do was smile back, then find our seats. Guards were in the aisles at the rear of the plane, refusing to move out of our way.
Really, I thought, how ridiculous. But I guess they have their laws to follow, the same as we do.
Once we were all seated, the guards gave us the "eye", then left the plane. The door was shut and we all breathed out.
Immediately, the jet began to move while we all buckled up. No one said a word. It was as if we were afraid to.
On the runway, as the plane turned to ready for take-off, the pilot's weary voice spoke over the intercom.
He asked us to just go to sleep during the flight because there was no food or drink and the cabin crew was exhausted, and he knew that we were as well.
And then he asked us to pray. He said he hoped that our plane was alright, but would we all pray for safety and a safe flight home, because only time would tell whether or not the hydraulic system was good again.
And when he clicked off, we silently prayed. The plane began to whine as if its engines revved and screamed, and then we started to move.
Faster and faster down the runway, and I thought, the air conditioner is working, so we're okay. We're okay, thank you God.
We had lift-off, and this time we ascended and began to soar, and the whole cabin began to shout for joy.
Women were crying with relief. I just sat there and breathed.
The captain came on and for the first time since we left Toronto two weeks ago (because he was the pilot who had brought us down to Cuba in the first place), he sounded normal, cheerful, and confident.
We applauded his speech of thanks and then, "Now, relax and go to sleep," order, and then we did.
He had been afraid that our system was flawed. There had been no way to test fly the plane. He hated that, putting so many passengers' and crews' lives at risk, we learned.
The stewardesses had thoroughly gone over the "crash and landing in the water drill" with us before we took off this time, because the Cuban authorities had told the captain before take-off, "Don't come back."
The flight crew woke us up over Ontario. The pilots landed at the Toronto International Airport, and when we touched down, the cabin went nuts again, shouting and applauding.
As we cheerfully disembarked, the entire flight crew stood at the front of the plane to shake our hands and wish us well.
They were beautiful people to me, with their tired eyes and bright smiles, especially the pilots and the engineer who all desperately needed some rest.
I will never forget them.
Nor do I ever intend to return to Cuba. Once was enough.
I had a great time and enjoyed the people and the island.
It's too bad the ending left me with such terrible memories of people who should have been kinder to us through our scary ordeal. It wasn't right.
What they did.
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