Working at Newsday over the past 18 years has given me experiences I would not have otherwise had, and opened my eyes to many realities.

I have worked on various desks, including special publications, features, business, news and Sunday, touching on issues like mental and physical health, the environment, art, crime, politics, agriculture, education, religion and so much more.

I've had the opportunity to travel to other Caribbean countries and experienced other cultures, how other people live and what they have to offer. I've covered concerts, fetes and cultural events - some of which I would never have attended if I hadn't been assigned. And while they were not all to my taste, it was certainly interesting to observe.

Also of interest are the characters and personalities I have met and interviewed while on the job. Excuse me as I name-drop interviewees such as Elizabeth Montano, Baroness Floella Benjamin, Jamaican reggae artist Shaggy, soca artists Olatunji Yearwood and Nailah Blackman, singer Raymond Edwards, artists Peter Minshall, Wendy Nanan and Che Lovelace, Law Association president Lynette Seebaran-Suite, permanent representative of Ukraine to the UN Sergiy Kyslytsya and British High Commissioner Harriet Cross.

But, as honoured as I was to have told their stories, one of my most memorable articles was not courtesy any 'big names,' but when I attended the funeral of an alleged gangster last year.

Growing up in Maraval, and even given my line of work, my experiences with funerals have always been very conventional affairs. Usually the service would be held at a church, temple or mosque and the interment at a crematorium or gravesite, with people dressed conservatively.

Never had I attended a funeral under a tent on a basketball court, with women dressed in attire ranging from short tights and T-shirts to body-hugging dresses. Many of those present were smoking what smelled like marijuana and drinking alcohol, and at one point, a brief fight took place over the coffin. At the end of the service, some of the men pulled out rifles and fired shots into the air as local dancehall music played in the background.

While under normal circumstance I would have been in a state of panic, I was not afraid, for several reasons. Firstly, Newsday was invited to the funeral, so the photographer and I were in no way encroaching. Secondly, over the years I have learned that people living in 'hot spots' are regular people and, generally, have no desire to hurt the average person, and certainly not a reporter.

You see, my work as a journalist has also changed my view of certain prejudices, made me less naive and more open-minded. I've learned that while stereotypes are there for a reason, there are always exceptions to the rule.

And lastly, I was too surprised to be afraid.

My favourite part of working at Newsday, though, is the people in the newsroom - those extremely supportive co-workers and supervisors who, whenever I needed it, were willing to help me. Many of them are now my friends, and alt