Santiago - Frick and Double Frick

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Mango peeling, my friends, is an exhausting exercise. No, really! It really wears you out! Slap on walking to the airport for two kilometers loaded with an extra 22 kg pack, you're pretty damn tired. So, when I arrived in Santiago from Rapa Nui, all I really wanted and needed was a truck ton of rest. I checked in to my usual stop-over hostel and snuggled in for a traditional siesta. Post-siesta activities ensued and were soon followed by an early bed time as I had an early transfer to the airport the next morning. Not long and the first "frick" presented itself.

Around 5 AM I was awoken by the late-night crowd tucking in and the staff cleaning the bathroom. No big deal, right? I just turned over to catch another 2 hours of sleep. But wait! It can't be that easy, can it? Then I noticed that my body was itchy all over and my right eye was swollen shut. It dawned upon me that I had been a victim from a violent flea attack. Covered in bites, I dragged myself out of bed two hours after this realization with no rest at all. I tried to inform the hostel staff as politely as possible that they had a problem while I iced my eye. I didn't want to sit down next to a passenger on my flight looking like I was going to start a UFC-style fight if they tried to claim the armrest from me. The airport, however, was waiting with another frick.

Earlier that morning, the check-in system had malfunctioned. This means that a long line of passengers had formed backing up through the entire airport. I had unfortunately arrived only a few minutes after a large group of tourists of disclosed nationality. These individuals proved to be one of the most illogical mass migrations to a check-in counter that I have ever encountered. Granted, if you squeeze together a line of people, that doesn't mean you're getting to the front any faster. If, however, this line is crowding the entire domestic departure terminal, it would be wisest to reduce the area being taken up, yes? Not in their minds. They continued to spread out as much as possible. There were single tiny backpacks on trolleys spread out with at least a meter between each tourist. When some of their buddies arrived later, they invited them into the line with them so that they could try to see how much negative space would be the most visually pleasing. Bastards.

Chileans are known for their polite manners and generous hospitality. So, if a Chilean has a temperamental outburst, it's probably valid. When this mound of tourists continued to spread out even farther, the Chilean travelers started yelling "Avanze!" at them, which means "Go forward!" Woah! Big deal! That was followed by the manager of the airline starting to move the obnoxious tourists forward with frantic arm waving and looks drenched with disgust. The Chileans had finally put on their big kid pants. Thank Ghandi's patience and example, because I wasn't going to hold it in together any longer. This was, of course, followed by lots of line switching by the previously described vagrants, but at least there was a more efficient "Avanze".

Eventually I made it to the front of this infernal line. I was kindly called to step up to the ticket counter by a Chilean gentleman, but wait! Again, it can't be that easy. An insolent tourist broke from his little check-in group and stepped in front of me to the counter. This, girls and boys, is where I lost my shit. Furious and looking like the survivor of an Irish pub brawl, I vapidly turned to face a little man about a head smaller than me. I can imagine that he must have been fairly terrified. Without saying any forbidden four-letter words, I demanded, in intelligible English, that this gentleman and his groupies had better make up their minds, because they were confusing everyone behind them. Guess what our indecisive idiot responded with? Can you guess, huh? Here it is: "I understand, but we were here before you." If he was Pinnochio and on stilts, he would have poked me in the eye.

I wasn't going to get in a drawn out petty squabble at this point. I was hungry, tired, itchy and turgid in the wrong places. I just ignored him and his band, and checked in with or without anyone's permission. The kind Chilean airline staff member just proceeded to check me in without another word. I had done what his customs did not permit him to do. Or maybe he just looked at me so respectfully because he thought that, if he didn't check me in, I would give him an eye to match mine.

Ideally, I would have the self-control not to snap at people at all. I really do wish I was better at this, but I am only human. At least I have a relatively long lag time before I explode. This, however, means that if I do snap, I really make it count. I become volatile and mean for an intense, but short, period of time and lash out at the responsible party. Sometimes I'm wrong and the wrong people become victims of my tantrum. This is when my way of dealing with problems is very bad. On the plus side, the period of lag is extremely good and one can count on me to be reasonable, patient, and understanding regardless of how much of a pain in the ass something may be. Hey, I'll take what I can get. But when I get a frick followed directly by additional fricks, you had better hope you were not the cause of any of these fricks and present for the explosion.

I am sorry if any self-esteems were destroyed in the release of my emotions. Now and in the future.

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