We were a bit late in arriving, so the shops at the bay were closed, but the sun was still up, so I went in for a dip. We watched the sunset and then started back to where we thought we could catch a taxi. However, since everything closed at 4:30, all the taxis had left, and we were stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, two divers had just returned back to their "truck" and offered us a lift. Now I know I shouldn't take rides from strangers, especially in a vehicle made of duck tape, but we really had no other option. So we all pile in the back of the aspiring El Camino and took a seat on a wooden plank. Since only two of us could sit side-by-side, Marcie sat on Jen's lap and Chantelle on mine. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, but as we were driving along the hilly switchbacks (with six people and all of their diving equipment piled behind us) I start to feel this burning sensation on the soles of my feet. Not wanting to move, I ignored it for a few minutes until we reach the next steep hill, in which my feet start to sear as Paul the driver floored it. I immediately moved my feet causing Chantelle to bounce about, which is something to avoid in an open-air, open-cab vehicle. Thankfully, the car did not tip over.
We ate dinner on St. John before heading to our resort on St. Thomas (if you go you have to eat the bbq there... so good). The ferry home was a perfect ending to the night. As we set off for home the captain turned off the lights, so that when I looked up I saw the entire night sky filled with stars (a sight I haven't seen in years).