I’m backkk! I actually returned last week, but as always, lots to contend with and to do when one returns from a lengthy vacation.
In the beginning. Cheryl and I departed for the airport around 5:30 am, already breaking my four hour rule to be at airports if my plan to check in at an actual airline booth was to work, not at a kiosk and bag drop off machine where there is no human mercy if you are milimetres or a pound or two over the limit. Nobody’s fault really for the half hour late departure to the airport, and there it was – the lines I’d hoped to avoid by coming as soon as the airline booths opened before a flight. Kiosks to put through our passports and lineups of more lines to put your baggage on the machines, that’s where we were. My anxiety was off the charts and it was only 5:45am.
We waited and waited and never moved up an inch when I smelled a rat and told Cheryl, something is up with these robotic machines that are replacing humans, and we aren’t moving. Soon enough, the nice attendant who helped us at the crowded kiosks to get our baggage tags, told us we all must go to the other side of the machines (where the actual humans were at the airline booths), and we must check in – the old fashioned way. I was both pissed, at having to move again, but never trusting my scale to be exact enough – because I need every ounce of every allowed pound, and was happy to see a human.
Being we were pretty far at the end of the baggage drop-off line, we booted it over in fast gear to the human booths, and we became nearly first in line. And then it happened again…like a distant memory of past, a travel hurdle I’d thought I’d conquered – the overweight luggage situation.
Something just niggled at me on my final weighing of my suitcase with my Heys trusty luggage scale, and maybe, a flicker of the battery as I was doing so. Last reading said 49. something, and that was good enough for me. But, apparently, it wasn’t.
The young Asian girl smiled politely as I lugged my suitcase onto the weigh belt. “Your bag is 55 pounds,” she alerted me. That old familiar pang went through me like I had committed a crime. A crime that was going to cost me dollars – as in $100 of them as I know well the penalty over five over the limit versus a pound or two over, which some friendly chat usually gets me away with.
In her next breath, the agent offers me the opportunity to move some things out of my bag into my (already overstuffed) carryon, or perhaps into my friend’s bag. And I felt like I had just hit the lottery. Cheryl and I both had two bags each allowance with our seat package, but we each only took one. Cheryl wasn’t even going to bring a suitcase, but I asked her to because I knew she’d have extra room for things like – a small coffeemaker I bought for us to have in our room, all my bottles of suntan lotion I knew I’d use that took up weight, knowing I wouldn’t be bringing back. And more. But, apparently, my trusty scale was off by at least five pounds. I was shocked. I’m telling the young girl I weighed that bag in at under fifty pounds, she was telling me to look at the scale in front of me, lol. I couldn’t argue.
There I was, like an old rerun movie, opening my suitcase for the audience to view as I pulled out a few packing cubes of clothing and transferred to Cheryl’s suitcase. Just like the good old days with my husband.
The flight seemed quick, and alas, we’d left the artic ice age for sunny and very hot, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. To stay in theme with the start of the day, we lined up at immigration, at machines that scanned our face and life. And then some printout is supposed to come out for us to keep. I did this about six times before I apparently did it correctly. Lol. The next line, after picking up our luggage is to join the exit line. This is where we now place all our luggage and belongings on a security belt. Again. Just to exit. Not a job for those who can’t lift fifty pounds, because you’re basically on your own. But we appreciated the man behind us who said he admired our Canada flags on our clothes and luggage and by helping us, he said he was trying to apologize in some small way for how his country is treating Canada. I thought that was special. And we surely appreciated the help.
Finally! Bags off the belt and the exit door is mere feet away, when a lonely immigration officer, off in a corner, standing at a lone empty metal table, waves us over his way and asks me to open my carryon. Of course there was nothing of concern on my end other than sighing at the timesuck, lack of sleep, and my wanting to just get the hell out of the airport.
New rules. We can’t take the luggage carts out to taxis, so we either roll them all, or get an always, able and willing porter – for a nice tip. After all, the service is free, they take you to the new taxi booth where you pay in advance for your fare listed on a board, according to zone’s destination. After warning Cheryl about making no eye contact with the numerous bombardment of sellers of rides and ‘special’ offers, upon exiting the security check, all these hungry business people will try and lure people to choose them for rides, offering perks. Many are time-share operators, offering rides if you sign up for a ‘presentation’ at their property, ‘for a few hours’ and a free meal, and sometimes even $100 – there are all kinds of offers. Just keep walking, I tell Cheryl, as the porter takes us to purchase a taxi ticket – and I have my first taste of sticker shock. The airport cab price nearly doubled from last year. I had an idea what was coming in the way of prices rising. And they weren’t far off from some of the prices right here at home.
We got to the hotel, a less than ten-minute drive from the airport, checked in, and waited over an hour for our room along with my friend Zahra and her hubby who arrived at the hotel a few hours before us, on an earlier flight. When we finally got our rooms and shed our winter attire, we headed across the street to the supermarket to pick up some water and snacks for our fridge, and we picked up a delicious rotisserie bbq chicken from my favorite chicken place right outside the supermarket. We went back to our respective rooms, enjoyed our chicken dinners, unpacked and got comfy watching Netflix. After two hours of sleep and a long travel day, we were happy to stay in and start the next day fresh and alert.
Next time, I’ll share some of the fun things we did, and some of the fabulous food we ate. Oh, and of course, I will share more about the big ‘Cartel’ event that was to take place five days after landing in Puerto Vallarta. Despite the massive sensationalism across news channels, it was all handled swiftly and efficiently.
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