… And Now for More Travel Drama

A sign for Mexico City

March 15, 2008: Mexico City to Louisville

Dear Grandma,

I am beginning to hate the Atlanta airport. Today’s travel saga wasn’t as bad as last Saturday’s, but I have to say that sitting on a regional jet with hail stones pinging off the windows is not my idea of fun. Seriously, I was having so much fun in Mexico that that the thought of coming back to the cold, dreary Midwest was a depressing thought indeed. Mexico was sunny and warm, colorful and exciting, full of new things to see and do — and my travel-mates were freakin’ awesome. The students were well behaved, smart, and funny. The ”grown-ups” were amusing and interesting. Our leader was witty, knowledgeable and calm — even when our plans went awry. 

I thought about changing my ticket so I could stay a few more days, but in the end, my status as a tenure-track professor brought me to my senses and I set my alarm clock for 3:15 a.m. so I could make my 6 a.m. flight home. Now, as you know from when I was a little kid, I am not a morning person, so when the alarm went off before the sun even came up, I thought about turning it off and going back to sleep. It’s probably a good thing that I packed the night before because even the hot shower didn’t fully wake me up. I’m sure I was a pretty sight when I finally made it down to the lobby with my overstuffed luggage in tow. At least someone else had the presence of mind to make our taxi reservations the night before, so all I had to do was climb into the van when it finally arrived.

Of course, I ended up in the second cab with a driver who could only be described as … confused. M. told him to take us to the airport and the guy asked, “¿Aeropuerto uno o aeropuerto dos?” Yeah, there’s only one airport in Mexico City, so that was a little disconcerting. Eventually, we figured out that he was talking about terminal one or terminal two — not two different airports. We told him that we needed the international terminal, but he ended up taking us to the wrong one. It’s a good thing that M. thought to jump out and check the sign at the Delta gate or else we would have had fun dragging all our shit over to the other terminal!

Anyhow, we finally made it to the right place only to find that the Delta line was longer than one might expect at 4-ish in the morning. Honestly, I thought we might not make it through the line in time to make our flight {Okay, I had my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t make the flight because I really, really didn’t want to leave!} but they moved us up to some kind of expedited line.

While we were waiting, I had to reorganize my luggage because my big suitcase was over the weight limit. Seeing how I didn’t want to spend more money to get it on the plane, I pulled out my extra bag and started stuffing my books and papers into it.* In retrospect, I would have been okay if I had worn my Doc Martins instead of shoving them in my suitcase because those steel toed, lug soled boots are pretty fucking heavy. But, I put them in my luggage because I expected to take my shoes off at the airport (which, incidentally, did not happen).

Pretty soon, it was just me and M. — who wasn’t taking the flight, but wanted to make sure that none of the travelers had trouble with their tickets — waiting in line. So, we’re standing there when this guy walks up and leaves his luggage sitting next to us. Now, remember, I am not a morning person and I had yet to have a cuppa, so I wasn’t thinking clearly when I said this next thing: “Holy crap, I hope there’s not a bomb in that suitcase.”

Oops.

Now, I suspect that if we were in an airport in the United States, I would have been in a world of hurt, because someone would have overheard me and security would have dragged my ass out of line. We’re completely anal about that kind of crap, especially when the TSA security guidelines are nothing more than a front to give people a false sense of security. I mean, one of the kids on our trip lost his pocket knife to the Mexico City security … a pocket knife he didn’t even realize he had with him because the knife made it through the security check in Louisville. Luckily, though, this was the Mexico City airport and my bomb comment went unheard by everyone except M. who gave me a weird look and told me, quite nicely, to shut up.

Eventually, I made it to the ticket counter (I was stuck in a middle seat all the way to Atlanta because the flight was full and he couldn’t move me), through immigration and security, and to the gate. Thank the goddess that M. gave me a face mask and earplugs, because I was able to sleep most of the way to Atlanta. Really, the only horrible aspect of this flight was that they were only serving eggs in their airborne breakfast. Eggs? Seriously? Let’s just ask for food poisoning, shall we? Obviously, I opted for the fruit and yogurt … then watched the flight attendance say rude things to the people in front of me. Yeah, she was pretty damned incompetent; she actually spilled milk all over the woman in front of me! Nasty!

When we got to Atlanta, we ate a pretty bad burger in a pretty bad restaurant where they wouldn’t take my $100 bill so B. had to pay for me. Oops. Don’t worry, I settled up with him later, seeing how he’s an adjunct at our school. Of course, Atlanta was having bad weather — it had just been hit by a tornado on Friday and it seemed like nature was taking a second stab at the city — so the airport was crammed full of people and we ended up sitting on a nasty, nasty floor. At least our plane was able to load on time … at least that seemed like we were making progress. I mean, the Girls’ Golf Team from our University was actually stuck in the airport (with half of them flying back the following day!), so we were lucky, or so I thought.

Hopped on the plane. Got all settled in. Pulled out the sleeping mask and prepared to nod off. And then we got stuck on the runway. Again. They loaded us up into a regional jet, put us out on the runway, and closed the airspace. We sat on the plane for 2 1/2 hours before the hail stopped and we could take off. We had the worst weather on our travel days, I swear!

Well, we made it home alive and now I’m planning my next spring break trip: Peru.

Love and Hugs,
Disenchanted

* Yeah, it was raining at both the Atlanta and Louisville airports and my extra bag was not waterproof, so I lost a notepad and a couple of articles to the elements. Blah! I’m just thankful that I didn’t put anything really valuable in that bag!