Hello! Here’s a little story about what can go terribly wrong when you travel. It’s time to leave San cristobal de las casas.
Your cab driver on springs called Guadalupe literally throws your bags in the back of his cab built for hobbits and flys out of town. Occasionally he puts the car in auto pilot so he can throw his head back and take long leisurely sips of his water or to look back at you in the backseat. You know… Just to see if you’re still somewhere back there underneath the suitcase. He flys down the mountain and in no time flat you have arrived at the airport in Tuxtla Gutierrez and prepare for take off.
The plane leaves. The plane stops in Guadalajara at night. Everyone climbs down the rickety stairs with their luggage. You almost knock a woman in high heeled boots off of her stair in front of you. Accidentally. With your bag.
You aren’t sure what you are doing or why but you’ve learned that following the herd and not asking questions is best in these situations.
You go in the airport. You go out of the airport. You go back in. Your luggage is searched. Your boarding pass is magic markered. You go outside. A flock of unruly sheep in the night. Your shepard separates the flock. You’re in the group next to the woman reading the Spanish book on how to have multiple orgasms. I AM NOT MAKING THAT UP! You all board the plane. You are tired. The woman with the book is your seatmate.
You head to Los Angeles. After at least 2-3 hours of flying in a thunderstorm lightening strikes the plane. No really IT DID. Biggest noise you have ever heard. You make the sign of the cross. You aren’t sure how this is going to turn out.
The plane makes it all the way to HERMOSILLA Mexico. It lands. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t ask. The plane sits on the Tarmac for a loooong time. Finally the pilots says LA is closed due to fog. He wants to fly all the way back to Guadalajara. Huh? Some of the passengers start to complain. They refuse to buckle up and sit down. The FEDERALES come on board. No really. THEY DO! You want them to take out those passengers gangster style, but instead they try reasoning with them. An hour later they’ve been subdued. The plane takes off. That’s when the fun starts.
You wake up with a big thud. Touchdown! Back in G town. More herds more flocks lots of pushing and shoving everyone wants to be at the front of the line winding at top speed through the airport with no one at the helm guiding. The line to nowhere. You wind up at the back with the infirm and feeble. You learned in 2nd grade not to push. The line stops.
You wait in the line ALL. NIGHT. Your arse hurts, your legs quiver, you have to go to the bathroom.
If you wait a couple more hours you MIGHT get in on standby to LA from Mexico City. First though you have to GET to Mexico City. You aren’t there, remember?
A stray sheep with a plan bolts out of line and into a really short little line on another airline. He looks like a nice sheep, not unruly. Not like a pusher. You go over to him and ask him what he just did. He bought a first class ticket on the other airline. You can do the same for a price. They’re the only tickets left and if you buy one you won’t have to spend any more time in the line with the pushers. You decide at this point that you brought the credit card in your purse on your trip for just such an emergency. So you use it!
Now you’re eating chilequiles looking out the window. Waiting for your 2 pm flight to LA. The skies are blue, the sun is getting bright and shiny. You haven’t slept but you don’t care. You aren’t in a line. You’re going home!
The lady with the orgasm book? She’s still in line. The woman with the go go boots? Still in line. You wave to them as you sashay past. They don’t wave back, but you do not care. Not one bit.
Sent from my iPad