A forgotten story

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It's occurred to me that I haven't documented the story of my return to the US anywhere, and I should for fear of forgetting, since (post-trip) it's kind of funny.

Wednesday, August 12: wake up before the sun and hop in a taxi to the airport. The streets are empty... the car is flying... and we're driving down the middle of the road in spots. Normal, I think. Mom & Dad are a little freaked out. 😊 Needless to say, we arrive at the airport, wave off the people trying to help us with our bags (more tips, and we can do it), and head in. The Cusco airport closes at night and opens in the morning, and we're the second flight out, so it's pretty empty. We're also there really early for our flight...

I had finally gotten my flights changed- there had been an email from STA Travel that my itinerary had changed, so I had a crazy 2 weeks of contacting them and trying to get things squared away. The problem, initially, was that my flight from Lima to Cusco had been pushed back 30 minutes. This then, however, affected my flight out of Mexico City, because my layover there wouldn't be sufficient for the airport's efficiency level, or something. So I was trying to square this away for a while from Huyro, which is sketchy at best for these types of things, and then from Ollantaytambo one weekend, which didn't work either, and then finally from Cusco and the Sacred Valley with my family. Internet availability, working hours of my contact with STA, lack of phone access on my part.... made this really difficult. Finally the woman emailed me that she had found an itinerary that would get me home a day earlier than I was supposed to, and on 2 of the same flights as my family. Great! Days of stress up to that, but it was squared away, the day before we left. Or so I thought...

Back to the airport. There were no problems here... because my Peruvian domestic flights were through LAN directly. We waited in the COLD airport, got on our plane, and had a beautiful flight to Lima... the LAN airplanes are really nice. Lima, however, is where the problems began. My family had checked in completely in Cusco because their flights were all linked by the travel agent, but I had to check in again. So, I wait in line to go... get to the desk... and the woman's able to pull up my itinerary, but I have no ticket number assigned to my name; the number is still linked to my old, no-good itinerary. This takes a LONG time to fix. Long enough that my family has to go so they can get through the huge security line. I am incredibly stressed at this point... but finally the woman calls over several people and they manage to get something figured out. I don't know what, and it would have been good if I had, for later on... But I dash out of the line, up the escalator, sprint to security (which, as usual, is at the opposite end of the hall from where I am), and see an enormous line. I pay my airport tax and squirm uncomfortably as the line inches its way to the checkpoint... reassured a bit by the fact that there are others in line with me waiting for the same flight. Finally make it through and dash to the gate (again, far away, of course... why are they never the first gates?), and board to see most people on and waiting. Whew.

The flight, as was every flight on the trip home, was in sharp juxtaposition to the terminals and switching business. Nice attendants, and I was sandwiched between two awesome, precocious kids - one girl going back to Florida to live with her dad there again, and one boy returning to Florida after a visit with family, as well. Bot were great - we played some games, traded food, joked, movies... it was nice. Unfortunately in the back of the plane, however, my family's TVs were not working, so they had a very unpleasant flight...

Miami. DISGUSTING. Worst airport ever. We land, and this is the point where my family's flights and mine no longer overlap. Here, we may have made a mistake in customs, but I still hold that it's primarily due to a lack of communication on their part. All of us received customs forms on the plane, and, sitting far apart, each filled one out for ourselves. Upon getting off the plane and dashing to the immigration line, though, we thought we'd all go through together, because the line was long, my family had a plane to catch (leaving very soon), and it looked like groups got through faster. So, we get up to the desk area, and the man behind the desk asks us in a very condescending way why we didn't just fill out ONE sheet. We told him we were scattered, and no one had told us anything... and asked if this would affect us at all (or something to this extent). He SHRUGGED. And waved us through. But... he kept 3 of the 4 forms. Now, I have one checked bag, but my family's got only carryons. I need to get my bag. They need to catch their rapidly-approaching flight. Hectic at this point, we approach the customs guy (I may have the order screwed up... customs or immigration??), and he gets very uptight and offended and stern at us; I cannot go through without a customs form, but I also cannot go through with my family because I need my baggage. Incredible frustration at this point... eventually the guy tells me I'll have to go back and get another form. I reassure my family that I'll be able to do this, and they dash off, while I go backwards through to the immigration area. There is one man sitting semi-officially in this entire big international area. Great security, if that's what we're worried about. He sees me, though, and puts on his intimidating face and growls incredulously at me... what am I doing?? I can't go back this way. I try to explain to him.... I don't think he really understood, but eventually he just waves me through menacingly. Someone else, higher up, sees someone going against the trickle of people coming out, and the same thing happens. At this point I'm just getting frustrated and pissed off... because now my plane's departure is fast-approaching, and no one seems willing to help me. Finally this guy escorts me back to the original customs guy, who is once again very confused (turns out he just didn't remember who I was), and they kind of manhandle the situation around... and finally figure out that it was probably this dumbo in the immigration area that messed stuff up. So, they give me a new card to fill out, but now I need to have everything checked. GREAT.

Into the customs room we go, and fortunately the guy seems to realize I'm frazzled and is a little bit sympathetic or something, because he just runs my bag through the X-ray machine after looking stuff up on the computer, makes sure that I haven't worn my shoes on a farm, and waves me through. My flight is scheduled to leave soon, and I need to recheck my baggage and figure out my ticket for check-in, and the terminal's far away.... so I just throw my baggage on this table that says "recheck baggage" and dash down the hall a bit until I see a flight status board. And here's the next wrench: my flight is canceled.

At this point I am fast approaching a nervous breakdown, or at least a breakdown. I was on an American Airlines flight (or United... I can't remember which), so I finally find this line in the airport so I can see about getting put on a different flight, and get stuck behind a large family, and everyone at the desk seems to be on Carribbean time. I'm practically jumping up and down, calling my family and trying to let them know what's up, and actually broke down in tears at one point... but finally got to an open computer to figure something out. Nice guy helping me, although gruff, but it turns out that there's still a problem with my ticket; the LAN people didn't fix it completely. This takes about 25 minutes to sort out, in silence and me hoping I can get home, and he finally tells me that I can catch a flight to Chicago, spend the night in the airport, and catch the first flight to Minneapolis in the morning. Only catch is that the flight leaves in 15 minutes and I need to get through security and run (once again) to the opposite end of the terminal (why??). Oh, and did I mention that, in my hurry, I accidentally rechecked my baggage in the international area? So I had no idea where that was going to end up.

Regardless, I said, sure, I'll take it. He printed me off paper tickets (including the ones to Minneapolis the next morning... and the catch with paper tickets is that you can't lose them, because there's no record anywhere), and off I sprint to the faraway security checkpoint. Which has.... a line longer than any I have EVER seen for security. Of course. Nervous breakdown #2 approaching, I kind of just start weaving up toward the front and ask people if they mind, but I just have to get home and my flight leaves in 10 minutes... Everyone was incredibly kind. I got up to the front and through, no problem... I am so thankful for all of those encouraging people. Dashing through the airport.... literally, the second-to-last gate, and they called 'Final Boarding' as I was about halfway there. I stopped, frantic, at an American Airlines (or United... still again, can't remember...) desk and asked them if they'd wait for me; she said, sure, you're fine... so I kept running. And made it.

Peaceful ride #2, sitting next to a dentist originally from the Middle East who came to the US for school, went through intense English training, and now is head of Public Health in Chicago; he was returning from vacation in Dubai, and excited to see his wife and dog. He was also concerned that I'd be spending the night in the airport, and said that if my connecting flight wasn't so early, I'd be welcome to stay in their son's old room in Chicago. I wouldn't have, anyway, but the thought was so nice; this guy was incredibly kind, and wonderful to talk to. It was a really refreshing several hours, after such a horrible experience.

Toward the end of the flight, they announced the gates for connections; there were apparently some people who had also been stranded due to the cancelled Minneapolis flight, and the attendant announced a gate for MSP! I told my new friend, what the heck, I'm going to try to catch this one and see if there's room... so I spedwalked through the Chicago airport, and checked at the desk in the empty terminal. People just kept getting progressively nicer, the closer to home I got. These attendants were welcoming, kind, and accommodating, and just put me on the flight. I cannot even begin to describe how incredible that was... the thought of home after thinking I'd have to wait so much longer was enough to wash away the rest of that day!

Peaceful ride #3 involved sitting next to a guy who'd just gone to Puerto Rico with a friend; he was a couple years out of college and working, and his friend was starting law school (the next day. awesome). We had a good chat about what we'd both done (his friend had just been in Peru for quite a while too, I guess) and the Twin Cities and what had happened that summer, and then... landing. I still beat my family home, and, waiting in the baggage area for them, ran into some family friends, who were waiting for their family member, too. What are the odds! Mel's boyfriend picked us up in a vintage limo his neighbors own, and that was that... home for some 2am frozen pizza, which was perfect.

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