In Palm Beach’s private aviation terminal, I am clearly the rookie. This was immediately evident when the woman who worked at the Check-in counter gave me an appearance as if I had asked for a flight to Mars when an amazing 45 minutes before appeared.

“Ah. Yes, they are not even here,” he told me, in the same way, you can tell a guest to dinner that appears at 3 pm. “Continue and wait in the living room, they will register you when they get here.”

The first lesson to fly Tropic Ocean Airways: It can appear just before the plane leaves. That is one of the huge attractions to take the new flight without stopping from Tropic Ocean from Palm Beach to Marsh Harbor, Bahamas, a gateway to the abchos. It is not to fly privately, but it is much easier than flying as a normal person, especially in this era of constant delays and direct cancellations. If you are interested in traveling to the Bahamas from southern Florida and not wanting to deal with airports, this could be your new favorite airline.

Tropic Ocean is a charter airline that has ventured in the world of commercial flights, operating from the Atlantic Aviation Terminal through the asphalt from GDP. Flights have a slightly higher price than American non -scales routes to the Bahamas from Mia, around $ 350 in each direction compared to US $ 275. With that you get a 50 -pound -bag allocation, and your pet can fly without you having to call it “emotional support.” It is also parked for free, right in front.

My trip started a little earlier, when I took the Miami Hour-Ish Brightline Train and jumped on a shared 10 minutes to the terminal. A little longer than my usual trip to mine, but I was able to work on the road instead of crossing the infamous security tails of Miami.

When I arrived at the terminal, my trip was the only car there. I entered the main door and went up to the desk, where the confused desk agent greeted me. If the plane had been there, it would have gone from the main door to plane in less than three minutes.

Of course, because it was clearly not the type of person used to fly outside the private jet terminals, it was shamefully early. So I had to kill some time. There are no concession stalls in this small terminal, nor is there an airport bar. What I found is a small living room with a handful of vending machines and a television, basically a rest room except burned corn popcorn and the occasional leftovers. Several of the terminal employees in their coffee breaks joined me while enjoying my horny lay lunch and a turkey vending machine.

Outside the windows, I looked through the asphalt to the large planes that are approaching GDP. I could not help having a small sense of superiority for all the poor offspring inside, that they had had to go through all the rigmrole of the TSA, then sit in a narrow boarding room because someone He insisted on arriving at the airport two hours before.

In this way, even the tallest father not having his family arriving more than 30 minutes before takeoff. I learned that this was literally true when I walked from the “cafeteria” back to the waiting room and found a family of five walking casually at 1:40 pm, 20 minutes before takeoff. They joined me in the living room, and 15 minutes later, five minutes before the game, two men who wore poles of the tropic ocean entered.

“I am Javier, and today I am your pilot,” said a tall man with a beard. “This is Mark, he will be your first officer. Let’s register.”

Very efficient, this tropic oceanic airway, which makes the pilots have double duty as door agents too. Mark and Javier made their rounds jovially, reviewing the passports and their manifesto to ensure that everyone was counted.

Once our crew of eight passengers was square, we went out to the PBI asphalt where our great caravan of Cessna was waiting. For those who are not amateur pilots, these are small support planes that are a bit larger than those who take it to get their flight hours, but not even close to the size of a regional plane. If you have ever taken a “pond sweater” in the Caribbean or another region of the island, they are approximately half the size of them.

Our plane to Marsh Harbor sat with eight comfortably. The seats are not assigned, but will not have the discomfort of the southwest of the airlines of someone who asks to sit next to him. Almost every seat is a cube seat, and everyone has views of the ocean.

The pilots, who also serve as flight assistants, offered us a beautiful variety of flight snacks that included pretzels, fried potatoes and famous masters, as well as frozen bottled water. The air conditioning on the plane is not exactly the cold of the film, so the water was an advantage.

If you are looking to prove the trend of raw dogs, the Ocean’s Marsh Harbor Flight tropics is an excellent opportunity. You will not find any wifi, electrical outings or films in flight on the plane. Curiously, willpower Find a magazine on the flight, where cocktail recipes are exchanged with real estate ads in the Bahamas. Basically, it is the version of the airline of Ocean management.
However, it really does not need entertainment on the flight, because the view out the window is fascinating. Almost as soon as the beaches of Palm Beach disappear from sight, you are buzzing on the turquoise waters of the Bahamas, looking down and trying to find out which island is flying.

Approximately 90 minutes later, we landed in Marsh Harbor, which is effectively the jump point for the Serenas and Underdeveloped Abaco Islands. It is the largest city of Great Abaco, and although the center has some good stores, its best move is to rent a car or rent a taxi and explore along its main road. The southern end of the island is home to the Abaco National Park, one of the best birds for bird observation in the Caribbean. On the way, stop to cross rocks and enjoy the views from your golden sand beach long. Or if you want to explore the turquoise waters of the Abocas, the ferry ferry offer frequent trips to the exterior keys that will take it there and return in a day.

Customs and immigration was an individual room with a desk, where a kind Bahamian woman marks her passport and discards it to the terminal. There, a painting of three taxi drivers anxiously expected to take somewhere in the marshes.

The return flight was equally meditative, and immigration was equally soft once we landed in GDP. The experience was the easiest and easiest commercial flight that I have experienced, and although there was not much to do on board, the ease of omitting security and processing of the airport was worth 90 minutes of solitude. If you are planning a journey to the Abin, this flight gives you an idea of ​​the stripped attitude and without world of destiny. It can be a bit more expensive than a regular flight of mine, but gives you more experience in private Jet without the price.

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