”You don’t have time to go home!” everyone in the office kept breathlessly repeating to me. Dazed and confused, I was handed one phone and another and another until finally someone gave me the briefest of briefings. “You’re flying to Miami where you’ll meet up with [staff photographer] Larry Downing who was on his way to Alaska when we turned him around. The two of you will meet up in Miami with two Washington Post writers, and all four of you will grab a chartered plane. Here’s $25,000 in cash. Good luck.”
In all the commotion, everybody had failed to give me some very pertinent information.
”Where am I going?” I asked.
”Cuba,” came the reply.
”Do I have a visa? I asked.
”No, but we’ve been assured that the plane won’t be turned around.”