Alas, idled away the night, waiting for the clock to struck ten in the evening, to head towards the airport and wait as a sitting duck again. By eleven into New Year's Eve night, many were chatting in fifth-form Français about life on the island, the trials and tribulations of living on a yacht, and all of the other crap you talk when you don't know enough vocabulary to get deep in discussion. I discovered how the locals swamped into the airport closer to midnight, struggling with their luggage. I also find it fascinating that Tahitians like any islanders, somewhat like the Filipinos, apparently bulked up cartons and cartons of what-have-you as they check-in at the airport. Home to 'tout le merde de France' as the luggage are tagged. The local policemen at that hour, I would imagine, perhaps will not have the energy to look over these luggage in any strict form. Then there was the suppliers, which arrived every two weeks as I overheard, servicing Papeete, Moorea and Bora Bora among other islands, from which everyone bought direct because it was cheaper than the prices on the atoll, they were queuing in for the check-in. You can imagine how frantically chaotic the situation at the tiny airport was, on New Year's Eve night! Brilliant!