The flight to Caracus was at something like 6 in the morning. So taking a page from the skipper's book he missed the last bus and departed guitar in hand at around 11 in the evening to wonder the streets. He returned shortly for a bottle of wine to share with the local skateboarders. I, playing the old man in this scene, was down bellow snoozing and bleary eyed. I nodded with a smile and bade him on his way. . . Ricky had been great fun.