After our island-hopper flight skipped from St. Barth into St. Martin, Marissa and I had four hours before our big jet airliner was scheduled to depart for New York. Instead of sitting in the airport, we figured that we could get at least one hour in at the beach. We filled out the customs forms to enter St. Martin and made a beeline for the sea.
How did you hear about St. Martin? the form asked.
Uh, we looked at our tickets to St. Barth and realized that you existed, as we were forced to stop here, I thought. But I wrote, A map.
The rest of the questions made St. Martin feel like the rejected island of the Caribbean. St. Martin asked visitors for their email address immediately in the same way a socially awkward traveler on a group trip will ask for your contact information before the trip even commences.
One Hour in St. Martin
Marissa and I left the airport, turned left, walked about ten minutes down the road, and ended up at a beach that was surrounded by bars that sold cheap beer. For a beach just next to the airport, where signs warned about the dangers of jet blast, it was quite crowded. Nonetheless, the turquoise waters were beautiful. Still I wondered why so many people had come to this beach where planes soared overhead.
Then, in the distance, I saw one such plane. It began as a metallic speck and grew in size as it approached. On the beach, everyone hustled to grab their cameras and iPhones. And that’s when I realized the draw of this little beach beneath the airport. Check out this video below.