Day 8: Return to Reality

If you've been following my adventures for awhile, you know I travel more often than many, so I do not make this statement lightly: this was the worst travel experience I have ever had.

The private ride to the airport took nearly twice as long in rush hour as it did in non-rush hour. Our driver, who spoke no English, anticipated that and knew ways around the traffic. We arrived in plenty of time. As we were using carry-ons, we sailed through security and check in. There was enough time to have two cups of tea each at the TGI Fridays, and roam through all the gift shops, while waiting to find out which gate would be ours. 

So far so good.

Our flight was delayed by an hour. 

Uh oh. We only had a 100 minute layover between flights.

Our trip included airfare, so we had no choice in flights. Exoticca chose the cheapest airline possible (to be expected) and for us that was Copa. Others flew Air Canada, and when they tried to complain we had them beat. The seats are small, there are no tvs, limited food (basically take it or leave it), when the seat in front of you reclines it is bumping into your knees, no blankets or pillows. Basically it is akin to flying domestically on Spirit or Frontier. 

We managed.

Don had the window. I had the middle. The Peruvian woman next to me did not speak English. I still did not speak Spanish. Could not even use Google Translate on the flight. She still tried to hold a conversation with me. I suspect she was a nervous flyer as she fidgeted the entire time.

Taken on the way out,
we did not take any pictures as we dashed

All that said, we had thirty minutes from landing to catch our next flight on the other side of the Panama airport. We raced, as did others making the same connection. 

We had to go through US security, confiscating the water bottle we carried from the earlier flight and wanted to drink from before getting on the plane was confiscated. Argh.

The next flight was equally as packed but this time we were the second to last row next to the bathroom. Don was in the middle. I was on the aisle. With turbulence throughout the flight, my seat was jostled the entire time with people heading to and from the bathroom. When we boarded, a young woman was sitting in our seat. Her mistake, she belonged one row back next to her mom.

By the time the drink cart came around hot drinks were off limits due to the ongoing turbulence, and there was no alcohol to be found. I think the options were juice, Coca Cola, and flat water with food being spaghetti. 

We landed at IAD (Washington's Dulles Airport) at 11:30 pm. As we were in the back of the plane, we were one of the last to deplane. That's fine, and to be expected. What was not to be expected was what ensued over the next two hours. 

We were herded onto a shuttle bus. The last one of the flight. We had to wait for
the wheelchairs and flight crew before leaving. This took us to a separate building to clear customs. There was no bathroom between the airplane and the shuttle bus. Note to self: next time use the bathroom in the airplane before deplaning since you don't know when you'll see one again.

We have Global Entry. We have been spoiled by it. The Global Entry line was closed. The sole bathrooms between us and the other side of customs was closed. The customs agents lines were also closed. Are you detecting a theme? 

Trust me after a 16 hour day to get to this point, I was not in the mood. 

I asked loudly to go to the bathroom. Not my finest moment. Meanwhile Don, whose bladder is usually the size of a thimble, was waiting on the seemingly endless line making small talk with the people ahead of us. They were regaling him with their friend's experience. The friend who was at the front of the very long line and had the line closed in front of her. The friend who offered to swap seats with her father because he had the row directly behind first class, only to learn they double booked that seat. She was placed a few rows back behind someone vomiting most of the flight because of the turbulence. The person who was directly behind him (and next to her) had her under the seat bag covered in vomit, which the flight attendants did not give her anything to help clean her bag. The smell was overwhelming, turning everyone off of the meal (they still had a choice of meals in their spot). 

The man in the window seat in the row behind us was also having a miserable time. He gave up his exit row seat to accept the offer of a $400 travel voucher to take a later flight. They then realized they had space for him and gave him what he so eloquently called "the bathroom seat" and told him to speak with the flight attendants about compensation. So he paid extra for a seat he did not get. Did not receive his travel voucher. And was seated in the extreme back of the plane. The flight attendants did not speak English, fortunately he spoke Spanish so he tried negotiating with them while we waited for the plane to take off. In the end I heard him making friends with the charming young woman behind me (the one who had originally been in our seat).

It is a miserable flight when the best you can say is you were not seated next to the person vomiting, nor did you pay extra to sit in the far back seat in the plane.

That's a mighty low bar.

The people cleaning the floor outside the bathrooms finally acquiesced and allowed me to use the bathroom. Someone halfway through the line shouted they wanted to go, too, but as they did not seem willing to give up their space in line, they were ignored. The floor was saturated in inches of water. When we finally made it to the other side, they said the area was closed for a three-day cleaning. As was Global Entry. I truly find that hard to believe.

The line finally moves forward. Inch by inch. Around 1 am we make it to the front. I have out our Nexus/Global Entry Cards. The woman at the front apologizes and tries to find us the shortest line. What we did not realize was at the front of that shorter line was a woman getting her Global Entry interview. Oh the irony! After listening to her answer questions for ten more minutes, and have her photo taken, we shift to the faster moving line to our left. Had we mad the move sooner, it would have saved us 15 minutes. By the time we made the move it only cut a minute or two off of the wait. We ended up standing behind people who landed thirty minutes after us.

On the other side of the glass wall we could see our bags being corralled. This added another layer of stress -- would they put our bags away for safe keeping until tomorrow? We were four hours away from home and had no plans to return. Fortunately they were just holding them in a small group instead of letting them continue to circle around and around.

We made it through the line at 1:16 am. Meaning we missed the twice an hour shuttle bus to the hotel where our car was parked by a minute. We lingered. Caught up with our new friends who were sitting next to the vomiter. They were driving to Delaware, about half of our distance. They were waiting for the rest of the group who was in one of the two sets of bathrooms on the other side of customs.

I called the hotel to verify that that the shuttle bus was really coming at 1:45 am. The front desk cheerfully assured me he would be there.

From here our luck began to improve. Though New Jersey had an epic blizzard a few days earlier, Washington, DC only had five inches. There was no show on our car. Even better, the cheerful front desk person let us make cups of tea for the drive home. 

I offered to book a hotel, but Don was ready to go home. Once on our way, he let me sleep part of the way home. I tried to stay awake, but it proved impossible. According to him, we hit no traffic. He first started seeing piles of snow after entering New Jersey (or maybe it was Delaware). 

We pulled into the driveway at 5 am--21 hours after being picked up at our hotel
in Lima.