January 3 - A Picture Perfect Travel Day

January 3, 2017

Picture Perfect Travel Day

This is a repost of one of my very first blogposts, a description of my flight to Santa Cruz on June 30^th and July 1^st, 2016.  I think you will quickly learn that I am being facetious to say it was picture perfect.  To be honest, it seems about half or more of all of my flights seem to go wrong.

I woke up early on Thursday, June 30th.  This was my day to travel, but I really didn’t have a lot to do, except a small load of laundry.  Mom, made good spaghetti for lunch with garlic cheese toast – fond memories of my mom’s good cooking.  She doesn’t think she cooks well, but what she does makes my mouth water.

Grandma asked me each time I brought a bag downstairs where I was going.  Each time I said Bolivia and she then asked, “How long will you be gone?”  Her memory is not so good anymore, so I didn’t want to upset her.  I said I’d be gone a few weeks.  When I told her that I was going to Bolivia to live, teach, and write, she got upset.  I didn’t want to get her upset.

Finally, my brother arrived and it was time to say goodbye.  I’ve said a lot of goodbyes lately.  I don’t know when I will back; probably Christmas, but maybe next summer. I have family and friends who are not that young.  I am almost 60!  I don’t know what will happen while I am gone.  If Mom had started crying I would have lost it.  Luckily my brother talked about Game of Thrones and a game he loves all the way to the airport.

So, now the adventure begins.  I arrive and start taking care of my ticket.  They won’t let me take my third bag.  I had the forethought to divide everything evenly when I packed.  Three button-up shirts in bag one; three in bag two; and two in bag three since it is smaller.  I did everything that way from shirts and pants to underwear and socks, and shoes.  I had an ugly pair of black shoes that were good for walking around the city.  It seems there is an embargo on extra luggage in Bolivia and other parts of South America.  Why I don’t really know, but that is part of the adventure of travelling.

My first flight is on time.  I am near the back, but have a window seat.  People keep heading my way and I look at so many and dread that they might be sitting by me.  I am in the mood to want to think and feeling homesick.  A young man, dressed for the beach sits by me.  He is maybe 25.  Eventually we talk when someone almost drops a bag on his head.  He thinks it is funny and promises to sit higher so the bag doesn’t smash into me.  I was thinking I was lucky because my day was going so smoothly after he told me his story.

He and his wife, and some friends got up early in Idaho that morning planning on being in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands for the weekend.  His flight was delayed for two hours in Idaho, meaning they missed their connection in Miami.  They were on standby and luckily were crammed into this flight.  When they get into Miami, they were told they would have to get a hotel, because there would be no more flights to St. Thomas until the next morning; and even then, they would be on standby.  So much for a weekend at the beach!

Our flight was uneventful.  I could look out the window and follow I-20 out from the airport until the edge of Texas.  I recognized roads, highways, and even buildings.  Bristol and Ennis were too far away, but I easily saw Kaufman, Texas with the new Highway 34 skirting the town.  It was a beautiful mass of trees surrounded by pastures for hay and cattle.  Then came Canton, which is smaller than I expected, and Tyler.  I was just there last week to see the zoo and rose garden.  And then we left Texas.

We arrived in Miami as the sun was setting.  The twilight and bright city lights made the city look gorgeous from above.  I told my neighbor it was a pretty night to enjoy the city.  He was thinking of the beach in St. Thomas instead, so not so amused at my idea. 

We landed on time, but we didn’t dock right away.  We sat on the tarmac for over 30 minutes before we went to our gate.  So now I was the one beginning to freak out.  I only had an hour and a half layover, so I did the math.  Twenty minutes for the people ahead of me to get off the plane, maybe thirty.  Then I’d have to go to my gate.  The Miami D Terminal goes on forever.  Ten gates is like thirty at DFW.  My gate was 44 and we came in at gate 21.  That is a long walk.  I was beginning to pray I’d get there on time, and I really needed to stop at a bathroom.

While walking down the incredibly long terminal, I would stop and see the flight status.  Gate 44 – on time; then it changed to Gate 48 – on time; then Gate 49 – delayed.  By the time I got to gate 49, it was moved to 51 and delayed until 11:00, 45 minutes late.  So now was the time for waiting.  At 11:30, not having boarded yet, very suspiciously, the airline brings us chips and sodas to drink.  I start talking to a couple from La Paz about the delay.  They were Christians and very nice, but I could not understand them clearly.  I have lost my Spanish!  They were telling me that people loved to have strikes on the highway from the airport.  I joked that I might be home before they got home (this flight was going to La Paz first, then another half hour to Santa Cruz).  My travel app, TripCase, showed the flight delayed until 12:30, then 12:45, then 12:55, and then 1:15.  We started loading the plane at 1:45.

I was sitting between two kids, probably in college.  I found out later both were from Cochabamba.  Though both were little, I was squeezed in the middle.  I am old and fat, I was very uncomfortable.  Everybody was sleeping almost as soon as they hit their seat.  I don’t usually sleep well on planes, but I managed to sleep.  Then the plane started screaming at us, making many jump.  You know planes have those automated announcements?  Everyone was sleeping.  Why not turn them off?  Five minutes of announcements, pause for ten minutes, then they started over again. 

Around 3:00 the lights come on for dinner.  I hadn’t eaten since Mom’s spaghetti, and I didn’t know when I’d eat again, so I ate.  The boy next to me was sleeping until they were finished serving.  Then he got his meal.  When he saw I didn’t eat my salad or desert, he took them.  How is it that a kid of 20, easily half my size can eat twice what I eat and stay skinny?  Jealous!  Then the lights went off again and I managed to sleep until daybreak, as we were approaching Bolivia. My back was hurting and my stomach was doing somersaults.

At daybreak, we had an interesting announcement on the speaker.  It was in English first, so many did not understand it.  The girl next to me did, but not the boy on the other side.  We would not be landing in La Paz, but heading straight for Santa Cruz.  I still don’t understand why, but it seems since we left so late, they could not send the crew through customs.  Someone feel free to explain it to me.  For me it was good.  We were originally delayed for three hours and this cut the delay back to just two hours.  For others, not so much.  The girl next to me had a connection to Cochabamba, which she already missed.  Now she would have to find another.  The boy had his mother waiting in La Paz and they were flying together to Cochabamba.  He would have to figure out how to tell his mother he was in Santa Cruz.  He said a few choice words, that I did understand, but I got the gist of it.

I arrived in Santa Cruz, customs were slow, and I was desperate for a bathroom, but I arrived.  Debbie Miranda and her kids were at the gate to greet me.  I said before, I hate traveling, but I love getting there.

Ecclesiastes 7:8 says, “The end of a matter is better than its beginning.” So very true.

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