My flight was scheduled to leave at 2 AM. Kate and I arrived to LAX a few minutes after midnight to find the entire terminal more or less deserted. Well, the entire terminal EXCEPT the line to check in at Copa. So we waited; mused about people sleeping on the terminal floor; noted the sound tracking ("The Impossible Dream" as interpreted by Muzak).
I'd checked in online, so this wait was for the sake of baggage: 1 average sized, not-too-heavy rolling suitcase of clothing and 1 industrial strength gear bag made for professional racers, weighing 112 lbs and carrying a spool of 750+ yards of cord, power tool kit, air compressor, 4 packages of zip ties, heat knife, DVD player, and box of about 50 seat belts... and turned out to only be 12 pounds over the weight limit.
Guess how much 12 pounds is worth to Copa?
US$100.
But all is well, I check in and power right through security just as boarding beings at 1:30AM.
Flight proceeds as follows:
1:30 AM - Boarding the plane. It's amazing how everyone on this flight is my age. It would seem our layover hub is a nexus for those traveling to Chile, Ecuador, Argentina and other places of great and inexpensive adventure in the South American continent. The entire cabin has that very distinctive Hollister smell. I am remotely amused by a young man on the other side of the aisle who flags down a flight attendant to say "sir, this was under one of the seats". He hands the woman an airtight plastic bag on what appears to be a red leash.
It's his flotation device.
Dear god, don't let this man be responsible for the nearest emergency exit.
2:00 AM - Taxi and take off
2:10 AM - Drugs
7:00 AM - "Breakfast" (I think that's what it was...) during which I did get to watch the movie "UP" in Spanish. This meal is followed by rapid clean up and a near immediate landing at 8:30 or so. Which is now 10:30 because we are in Panama City.
8:30/ 10:30 AM - Landing in Panama.
The Panama City airport is a giant duty-free emporium that seems to service airlines, too. However, air travel does not seem to be the main purpose of this mall. What remains burned in my mind, though, is the kiosk exclusively dedicated to hot dogs and hot dog related paraphernalia. Head down and eyes averted, I rush to my gate, find coffee, and strike up a conversation with the only other English speaker on the flight: an Australian named Dave. Business (petrol) dictated my new friend's 2 month residence in Peru, to whence he was returning after a brief trip to Panama before finally heading home to Brisbane. The plane boards and we do not sit next to one another, but this man will save my life by directing me through the Lima airport in 5 hours.
9:00/ 11:00 AM - Boarding. I discover that my pre-selected aisle seat has been commandeered by the old Peruvian woman who SHOULD be sitting in seat 6B. That's B as in 'between A and C". She is pretending to sleep. She continues to pretend to sleep until I have resigned and settled into the center seat. Then she wakes as though from a dream - a happy dream of passive aggressive triumph and the not-so-subtle manipulation of tourists. I still attempt to get my seat back- the 6C on my ticket is in English, however, and she does not understand. Is totally aloof. I suspect she may be part llama.
9:30/11:30 AM Drugs
1:00/ 3:00 PM - Landing in Lima, Peru. Aussie Dave is kind enough direct me to the 'queue' where I'll need to get my passport okay'ed. At the baggage carousel, he assists in the wrangling my anvil filled luggage, and continues to be superb by explaining what documents to give to the waiting customs officials who are yelling at everyone that approaches them. If you already have your documents in hand and can make their lives easier, it turns out they don't yell at you. My guide takes a separate line through customs and I do not see him again.
Wherever you are: Thanks, Dave.
Happiest ending: I am green-lit through customs, no one questions the bags I am toting (the contents of which might have allowed me to take the entire country hostage), and I suddenly understand how sneaky, fake-sleeping, seat-stealing Peruvian lady must have felt: I am a subversive, victorious GODDESS!!
This miracle is all my doing, I have decided. My dormant survival wiles have finally kicked in.
Out front, I am waved down by Lisa and Staci, the DPTs from Azusa Pacific University who will be my companions during this medical study. They are with Paulo, of Camino de Vida, who helps us with our bags and gets us to the bus.
We arrive to our hostel, where Lisa and Staci have the double room next to my single. The rooms are nice, comfortable, and simple. We unpack, unwind. I watch The Little Rascals in Spanish. We go to dinner with Cesar, another CdV staff member, and call it an early night. Heading back to the hostel, I decide to email my friends and loved ones to let them know I've arrived safely. This hostel, according to its website, has a business center and is laptop accessible.
The business center is set up on a coffee table. It's the most brilliant thing I've ever seen.
The internet filters through this CAT5 modem cable, which is dropped from the phoneline outside, strung through an open door and plugged into this ancient CPU. So old that, instead of writing emails, you're suddenly overcome with the desire to play Oregon Trail and have recess. (We've since been told that this method of wiring means it's being stolen from neighbors.)
The laptop accessibility? Why, simply unplug the cable from the CPU and hook up your own machine of course! Laptops run on modem power, don't they? So-- this is why I didn't write when I arrived.
Let's make Friday a separate post, shall we?
I'm the only laptop-holder of the 3 of us, so this is all quite rushed. Not the literary genius I'd hoped to be able to offer you... I'm going to post up about Friday and then mass the computer off to Lisa and Staci so they can check in with their own people.
TBC...
Wow - I would classify that as literary genius for sure! I love the fake-sleeping, Peruvian lady description - works every time. See why I said you were brave to be traveling alone? Lori
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