Lost In Another Terminal - a cricket journalist's woes

I'm sending this from Princess Juliana International Airport, in St Marteen, on my way to Antigua. The two teams – and the TV crew – had a direct charter flight, but the humble journalist is not so lucky. However, this brief stopover has many bonuses.

This is what the Caribbean looks like in the holiday brochures; sweeping beaches, crystal blue water and swaying palm trees. Jamaica had all of those, but Kingston itself was a rather edgy city. That isn't meant as a harsh comment – and I certainly didn't have a chance to explore it properly, while other areas of the island are meant to be stunning (not least the Blue Mountains) – but when you are warned not to walk five minutes between hotels it does give you a certain impression.

St Marteen, an island split in ownership between the French and the Dutch, is the picture-perfect Caribbean island, as my final destination of Antigua also promises to me, with luxury yachts moored in the bays and coves. Dutch police patrol the customs area, making one tempted to burst into a Harry Enfield sketch but then realising it probably isn't very wise.

However, what makes it even more notable is the thrilling approach to the airport where you skim low over the beach. If you want a picture, just stick the airport name into Wikipedia or Google and you'll see what I mean. (It's here, Ed.)

Our plane was a fairly modest jet, but when the jumbos come in from overseas they have to approach so low over the beach that the sunbathers can almost reach up and touch the fuselage. It is a haven for plane spotters and those who have ever wondered what four jet engines sound like from a few metres away.

But, as I sit here making the most of the Wifi in a pristine, modern airport that puts Gatwick and much of Heathrow to shame, I can't help but wonder whether I will be joined later tonight by all my luggage. Many of you will have heard of the issue of lost bags on inter-island flights, they are the must-have travel stories of a Caribbean trip, much like trishaw rides in Sri Lanka or tuk-tuks in India.

When we checked in at Norman Manley International the agent said he would happily tag my main bag all the way to Antigua. As an aside, a colleague travelling with me had a nice heated debate over excess baggage which, with commendable persistence, he eventually won.

"But there's no guarantee that Liat will deliver it," was the agent's less-than-reassuring aside as our bags were hurried away to the dark recesses of the baggage system. In these parts, Liat, which officially stands for Leeward Islands Airport Transport, also stands for Lost in Another Terminal.

The problem, you see, is most of the planes are so small with about fifty seats and not much room for suitcases and holdalls. My ticket says my bags will arrive in Antigua, and the company rep in St Marteen was adamant they would as well. I'll report back tomorrow with the end result.