Flying with Brian

"Which island you going to?" mumbled my reluctant driver, whisking me from a guest-house to Trinidad airport at five in the morning. "Jamaica," I yawned, "for the cricket." At this point, he suddenly came to life. "Lucky you, man. You're gonna see Brian Lara. He'll do it this series, you'll see - he's the greatest in the world."

Slouched in my cramped seat on the plane, bleary-eyed, bearded, and with a bad head, all I wanted was to get some sleep. I prayed that no-one would sit next to me, to allow my legs some much-needed space. But alas, a pooper came along to spoil my selfish pyjama party. To pass the time before take-off, I pulled out the in-house magazine, Caribbean Beat, which had a picture of Lara on the front. Considering I had read it on the way out from London, and after receiving that eulogy about the Prince of Trinidad in the wee hours, I decided I had had enough of him for a flight at least - or so I thought.

As I tried to settle down to sleep, I was again rudely awoken. But this time, as I peered out, I noticed the famous maroon West Indian blazer. "Isn't that Dave Mohammed, the left-arm googly bowler?" I thought to myself. It was. As he climbed down two seats to my right, two other more recognisable players came swaggering through the entrance and sat down on the opposite side of the aisle. One was Ricardo Powell, and the other - guess who? Now it was my turn suddenly to come to life.

Decked out in a light-blue official Windies shirt and smart black slacks, Lara spent most of the first hour or so dozing, occasionally checking out the prettier stewardesses, and acknowledging the well-wishers and autograph hunters - most of them female - who got off at Barbados, our first stop-off point.

Then came the second instalment of the squad. Ramnaresh Sarwan, Fidel Edwards, Dwayne Smith and Tino Best all strolled in. "Morning skip," quipped Sarwan, but Lara was more interested in taking the mickey out of the jewellery-dripping Corey Collymore's new cropped haircut.

Lara spent the remainder of the flight reading his interview in Caribbean Beat, and The Wisden Cricketer, which I kindly lent him, along with Mohammed, Best and Adam Sanford, just to name (drop) a few. When we finally touched down at Kingston, after the usual announcement about when to take off your seat-belts, an additional one was made: "... and all the best to Brian Lara and his West Indies team," which was followed by a round of applause.

Nice touch, I thought. But unfortunately I missed Lara's reaction - while I had finally managed to nod off, he had been upgraded to first-class.