[pshrynk]

Back in the Goose, the Squid woke up with a raging hangover. A headache in an animal that is, face it, all head is nothing to sneer at.

He rolled over and took a long drink of water from Harv's thermos. After testing to make sure that it was, in fact, just water, of course. Silently, he swore off ever a) drinking with Adrian, b) playing cards with Adrian, or c) both ever again. He felt lucky to wake up as the same species, let alone in the back of the Goose. Why had he crawled in here again?

Hoisting himself up to the cargo bay door, intent on taking a quick swim in Lake Gatun to replenish his depleted body fluids, he was shocked to discover he was sitting in an airplane in the middle of an airport. Harv never landed at airports if he could avoid it! And this wasn't the Panama City airstrip! Small shots of panic ran up his, well, head.

He schlepped to the cockpit, hoping to be able to endure the M.A.R.V.I.N long enough to get a fix on his whereabouts. Half way there, he tripped over a largish bound sheaf of papers.

HARV AND VERA'S MEXICAN VACATION, it said. He noted that the cover stated that the script belonged to "Lefty." The Squid leafed through it quickly. His eyes grew wide as he reached the second act. Grabbing the flare gun from the emergency kit, he jumped out of the Goose and set out across the tarmac.

"I don't suppose you could bother to just flick that switch before you leave? No? Typical."