BA to IGUASU - tracksuit man / storm boy

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The first ascent we made ourselves, from the tarmac to the plane. Decades peeled away Until we plateaued somewhere around 1982. Jets of condensation spurted from the overhead airconditioning ducts creating our own internal cummulus. The hostesses were dressed in duck egg blue, blue eye shadow and pumps blinked in agreeance.

JJ and Carla sat together and I was next to a Chinese guy in a tracksuit, the unfashionable kind. The plane seemed to bounce throught he air. Plastic packets of desicated food were served with indifference and we made eating gestures to pass the time.

A rainy week had started in Buenos Aires when we left but on arrival at Iguasu we were met with a subtropical embrace. What now?

Returning from my post plane piss I see the girls speaking to a dark haired boy. He has a look of urgency on his face.
"do you want to share a taxi with him?" Carla translates "It´s 10 pesos each"
The bus is only 8 pesos so his proposition seems a little perplexing.
"Why don´t you catch the us?" Carla suggest. Despite the fact they both are Spanish speackers there seems to be a communication impass and we buy the bus tickets as he stands at the ticket stand under a little storm cloud that has formed over his brow.

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