Chris & I left Las Vegas’ airport on our connecting flight for Miami at some ungodly hour… did I mention it was raining in Las Vegas? Pouring actually. Our luggage was obviously out in the rain for a portion of that time as well, as we later discovered. =\
The flight was long… I slept though most of it. I think Chris didn’t sleep much. I woke up somewhere over the Everglades, and turned to my right to snap the picture above. Christopher looking grumpy and tired. They call it a “red-eye” flight but Chris had a workaround for that. 8)
The plane took a long lazy circle around Miami, and approached from the east, which gave me a chance to gaze out at lonely sailboats, and shipping traffic heading towards the Caribbean. My grandfather was a sailor, and I’ve always had a yearning to hop on a freighter and vanish out to sea… an impulse I will likely never act on. But my memories of his stories are brought to the forefront of my mind whenever I see any sort of craft alone in a vast body of water.
Eventually the marine traffic under the plane became quite dense, and sure enough, we made landfall:
Over Miami beach, then downtown Miami, then landing at the airport. We had a lot to do after that. First of all, navigate to the baggage claim. Miami airport, like so many US airports is undergoing significant construction in an effort to reconfigure itself completely to accommodate the massive growth of “airport security” after 2001. Mind you, there will never, ever be another successful hijacking of any commercial airliner, ever again. Anyone who stands up and announces that they are doing so will be instantly ripped to shreds by the bare hands of every other passenger on the plane. History has shown me to be correct… every attempt since the second aircraft hit the World Trade Center has had that result. But, like all military forces end up preparing to fight the last war, we’re spending vast sums of money preventing something that will never happen again. Ever. The near-term result is a confusing maze of temporary walls and inadequate signage. Thankfully I have an inate sense of direction, and despite the fact that we were one of the last to leave the aircraft (Row 27 of a 757), we were the first to arrive at baggage claim… by a fair margin. Let me tell you though… it was a bit of navigation that would befit a vintage rallymaster. In another twist of bad airport design there were maybe 6 chairs in the entire baggage claim area. Being the first there we staked ours out for a long wait.
I was about to leave Chris and go find a place to get him some Chilean currency and a phone card that would work for calling home from South America, when by some bizarre stroke of luck, his bag appeared on the conveyor… the first one off the plane! As I said earlier though, it was wet. I had given him my amazing Speaker Swag Bag from Macworld Expo, which hopefully was water resistant enough to keep his stuff inside dry. I left him to find my box, and went off to find currency. It was early in the morning, so the airport was sort of dead… and ALL the currency exchange locations in the terminal we were in were closed. Grr. One did have a sign that said, “go to terminal E” or something like that. So I wandered my way over there, to find one currency exchange place “open” but with nobody staffing it! I checked the directory and it listed two such places in this terminal, so I found the other, which was closed but with a sign directing me back to the one I just left. Sigh. Upon close observation the only open currency exchange location did have a doorbell under one of the windows, so I pressed it and … eventually … a woman came out from behind a James Bond like secret door at the back of the glass cage. When I said I needed Chilean currency she just sighed, and went back behind the door! Eventually (I figure the heat makes everyone move so slow down there) a man came out and changed my Benjamin Franklin into a pile of colorful Chilean Pesos:
Wow, that’s forty-two-thousand!
Yes, I’m sure I got ripped off somehow, as all airport based exchanges are a losing proposition, but expediency was more important here. Something they count on. My OS X Calculator.app says I should have gotten 52,724 pesos for my $100. Oh well. The other downside was I could find no phone cards that would work in Chile.
Loaded with almost fifty grand in cash, I wandered back to Christopher, who was guarding my very soggy server box, and his luggage and both our carry-ons. Next up was picking up our rental car. Outside to the shuttle bus, as the rental counter was closed. Stepping outside, both of us wilted instantly in the heat. Here it was February, and it was hotter than our hottest summer day in the Pacific Northwest. Worse yet, the humidity was crushing. Even in the “wet” Pacific Northwest, the humidity ranges stay pretty moderate. But here it was, before 8am and already the temp and humidity were unbearable. We waited for an Alamo rent-a-car shuttle to come… seemingly for 45 minutes… while several busses for every OTHER rental car company went by multiple times. True to form, when an Alamo bus DID come, two of them arrived simultaneously. Go figure. I had reserved a car online prior to our departure, and requested a convertible. I figured since I was going to be doing a lot of driving in two days, I should at least get something fun. My paperwork said “Ford Mustang or equivalent.” The way Alamo works, at least at this location, is that you confirm your paperwork on a self-service kiosk, and then just walk out and pick a car. Cool. We wander out to the convertibles to find this array:
Chrysler Sebring, PT Cruiser, PT Cruiser, PT Cruiser, PT Cruiser, VW New Beetle, PT Cruiser, PT Cruiser, PT Cruiser.
Chris & I looked at each other, and both said “The Bug!”
Simple choice really. The only doubt was the ability to carry our luggage. So we shoved Chris’ big bag into the boot, my big server box into the backseat (it BARELY fit!), and our carry-ons on the floor, and presto! It all fit. The Bug was ours! I fiddled with the roof, but could not get it to retract, but Chris said it was too hot anyway, so we just blasted the AC and found our hotel.
I had told them to expect us early and to PLEASE have our room ready, as we’d likely go straight to sleep. Thankfully they did as I asked and we fell straight to bed. I don’t even recall lying down… and likely was asleep before I was fully horizontal. I think Chris was the same. Still on Pacific time, we were both still in the wee hours of the morning.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Around noon, I woke up, called Sue, let her know we made it. Showered, etc. Woke Chris up and we went to find some food. We wandered south from our location, into a swanky area called Coral Gables, looking for a place where we could sit down and be served. We saw plenty of places, but just nowhere to PARK! We eventually gave up and wandered back north towards the hotel and found an IHOP. Not exactly my first choice, but it worked. The service was actually good, and Chris & I sat and had a nice long chat. I managed to get all the info I wanted transmitted into his teenage brain in preparation for his first long stay away from home over the past 24 hours, so I was pretty happy. After lunch we wandered back to the hotel and just vegged out for a while… watching movies on my laptop. We made our way through DVD1 of South Park’s 2nd season when the phone rang. It was the AFS people, calling Chris for the start of his orientation. He wandered off to check in, and came back abruptly to say that they wanted him to move to a different room and see me off. He was obviously upset, as he wasn’t mentally prepared to say good-bye to me at that very moment. I told him it was OK, and gave him a hug. I suspected this would happen, and told him to focus on the orientation, and have a great six months. He would be with his host family within a few days and all would be well. At that, we parted.
I don’t recall much from the rest of that evening… a few phone calls, some work emails… but in reality I was in a sort of haze. Chris was off on his own for the first time ever. I know that Sue & I have prepared him well for this, but the separation event itself is always something of a shock. I went to sleep early. Sleep for me is a coping mechanism for all sorts of ills.
