We left Santiago on an American Airlines flight to Miami, USA. Unfortunately, the cabin crew were Chile-based and, with only one exception, they were the most grumpy bunch of people I've come across in the customer-service sector. So, it was a pretty miserable eight hour, 4140 mile flight, with a tepid meal and a tiny back-seat screen to play games on or watch a very limited selection of movies. We landed in Miami about 3 am, local time, (I'd given up on time shifts!) and it seemed as though we had somehow gone round in a circle because the primary language being spoken was Spanish! Pardon, what, where? Total confusion. Miami was a transit point for us but we clutched our ESTA documentation to indicate we were approved visitors and happily went through their automated fingerprint
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