It took two months, two days, 13 hours, and 47 minutes to get a plane ticket. The stress and uncertainty leading up to my trip was of my own doing. The time had come to finally get out of dodge and start an experience that will hopefully be inspiring and path-altering (or path-mending or path-rerouting or throwing my old path out the window for a new Spanish speaking one). I am going to Cuenca, Ecuador to stay with my godmother and close family friend, Diana and her wonderful family. She and her husband Matt have taken their kids, Piper and Duncan, to Ecuador for two years as expats.
After leaving Bozeman, MT, where I had spent the last three school years, I stopped in Phoenix to say goodbye to the my family, spend too much money, and not play golf (it was 110 degrees and I thought I had broken my foot).
All my bags were packed and I was ready to go. My dad, the cab, was outside the door. I hated waking up, but it was time to say goodbye to the states and head south where the English is scarce, clouds are in abundance, and people (men anyway) piss on sidewalks and apparently handrails.
For all my complaining, 8am flights aren't so bad. I am one of the lucky ones. I can sleep on any plane. I was flying through Miami. Phoenix through the sunshine state and on to the equator. I figure we'll be early. My flight to Miami was fine. I slept for three of the four hours and was distracted by my iPod for the other hour. Obviously I only needed to study Spanish for the second leg of flight to Ecuador before being in immersed for six months. I mean I grew up in Arizona, studied in Montana, and I love Taco Bell - I'll be fine.
The plane had arrived in Miami twenty minutes early. Given my 50-minute layover, I was pretty happy about this. Only before the plane landed, it started circling. Thunderstorm. "Shouldn't be a problem we have enough gas that we can circle until we get an opening instead of having to be diverted," the pilot reassured the cabin. After a half hour of circling, we get the news we are headed to Fort Meyers to refuel and wait for the weather to clear. All that gas earned us was a seat at the back of the line.
I am a very easygoing traveler. There isn't a lot that gets to me and I don't worry about the things I can't control. I can't control the weather or how many gates are open and I can't tell the control tower to go screw itself and land the plane anyway. I can control the volume on my iPod and generally whether or not I am sleeping. However, the man sitting next to me (I had an exit row window, thank God) took up more space than a 5'6", 140lb person ever should. I hate when the person-next-to-you’s elbow extends past the arm rest and is touching you but especially WHEN YOU"RE LEANING AGAINST THE WINDOW. I couldn't get away and my volume was already all the way up. Ugh. After three hours on the tarmac the weather was gone, unfortunately along with it, all the flights to Guayaquil.
Good news is my aunt and uncle live in Miami. They are out of town but thankfully Peter, my cousin of about the same age, happened to be passing through town. The rebooking line was a mile long with two agents and I had a luxurious Coconut Grove abode waiting for me so I got out of there as quickly as possible. It was good to see Peter. We see each other rarely - once, maybe twice, every few years. He is tall like I want to be and athletic like I used to be. He is a Sophomore at UC – Boulder and going to Barcelona in the Fall.
Starving we head to the main drag in Coconut Grove. Taurus, a small, dimly lit bar with charismatic bartenders and an impressive burger is our first stop. Almost done with our meal, a whiskey rep sat down next to us an offered us some Moonshine, a sweet non-barreled whiskey. We made friends and found out Moonshine goes well with orange juice, lemonade, wheat beer, water and is even tolerable on the rocks.
Walking out of Taurus, feeling like a million bucks (or was it that I had a million bucks? - probably both) we head down to the younger side of town and decide to go to the loudest bar we can find. Anytime you can mix two different kinds of alcoholic Slushies and Jell-O shots and then throw an extra shot in for a dollar, you have to do it. Saddled with two Jell-O shots (they were a dollar!) and a Slushie, we found a table in what was otherwise a very busy bar. Looking around we noticed we were the only white people there so we decided to get out quickly. Getting out of a bar quickly when you're holding four shots always works out well. We moved on to the next bar, which was more our crowd, and ironically met two Spanish girls. We hung out for a bit then they gave us a ride home and we exchanged numbers. My wonderful downstairs bed was waiting with open arms. Goodnight.
After waking up I figured out that I could get out the next evening, which was a major improvement over the 4th of July. Peter and I stayed in and hung out all day. It was cloudy, not the beach weather you would hope for while stuck in Miami. In the interest of our wallets we stayed in. The Spanish girls came over later and we hung out. We talked about the differences in cultures and Peter and I tried speaking a little Spanish here and there. They each spoke four languages. Peter and I each speak about 1.2. The night ended sooner and cheaper than the first. The next morning I was ready to go to Ecuador. I got in the car sporting same shirt I had been wearing two days before and nervous about getting to my hostel.
"This is not a ticket but you will definitely get a seat." ... Really? After getting through security and down what must be the longest terminal in the world, I asked the American Airlines agent for a seat assignment and she said she would call my name in a bit. Listening to my iPod but clearly able to hear the PA system, I was waiting for them to call my name. Conscious of what they were saying I hear, not my name, but that "GROUP ONE!" was invited to board and I stood up and turned around to see a long line of angry people at the agent's desk. I hopped in line and was able to overhear that there was a weight problem and they were still "calling people's names."
As the groups went by I started to feel my chances of boarding were pretty grim. Thank God there was a flight later that evening. The doors closed and I was still in line. I finally got up to the front after a nice conversation with a UC Santa Cruz professor who was supposed to do research in the Galapagos. There were five spots on the next flight for 10 people. Luckily the professor was one of them. I was not.
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