Since this is an aviation oriented NG and not a nostalgia dump, my assassination-day predicament may be of interest to some. I was a Patrol Plane Commander in VP-23 out of NAS Brunswick, Maine, and had departed Brunswick with my crew in LJ-9 around ten-thirty to relieve as the Officer-in-Charge of the four-plane Patrol Unit at Leeward Point, Guantanamo, Cuba enforcing the post-Cuban-crisis surveillance of Caribbean traffic. I had just passed abeam of MIA on airways and was about to switch to over-water frequencies when we heard the news which I put on the aircraft ICS to "all-stations" and we all had our gasps and gollies. The question was, at that point, did the Cubans do it and if so, what were we doing penetrating their airspace and how would they react. Since we simply had no idea about the circumstances, I felt I didn't have much choice but to drop down below any radar and punch in at 300 feet or so until we got where we were going. Well, everything was cool - the Cubans were as surprised as we were and all ended well, but every year around this time I remember the day and the flight and like the previous poster, wonder where the days and years have gone....