It’s the early 1980s, I’m in Vera Cruz, Mexico, and it’s already been a killer charter trip. Passengers arrived late at the Brownsville Airport. They’re headed to Vera Cruz for a wedding, and, of course, the women have about six suitcases each. An exaggeration, but not by much. Part of my problem is the plane I’m flying – a Cessna 414. It’s a twin-engine plane, turbo-charged, pressurized, but it’s underpowered. It’s got the same body, almost, as it sister, the Cessna 421, but the engines on the 414 have less horsepower. That, in and of itself, wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing,