Tackling the Globe…

I committed the classic rookie error, I will admit. As a traveler by profession, you would think I´d be smarter than to miss my connection in LA–with a FOUR-hour layover. Um yeahhh, not so much. (I should note that in the hundreds of flights I have taken in the last few years in 60+ countries, it was my first time. OK, second really, if you count the minor snowstorm mishap in Slovakia of ´05.)

After a quick hop from San Fran to LA, I was under the impression that we were leaving from Terminal 7. So when we touched down at LAX–the world´s worst and most disorganized airport in my humble opinion–we trekked to said terminal and proceeded to kill three hours in the subzero airport temps. It was so cold, in fact, that we found a vacant corridor that was just a smidge warmer and huddled together on the ground so as to not catch hypothermia in Southern Cal in October; we both promptly fell asleep–it was 10pm and I told you were 25 and 34 going on 92, what with as early as we prefer to go to bed–and awoke when my alarm went off one hour before our flight.

It was 12:30–our plane was to depart at 1:35am–and our gate number still hadn´t been posted. Finally, I wised up and asked a United gate rep for assistance. That´s when the dominoes began tumbling, in slow motion, one by one. She told us we were in the wrong terminal entirely and needed to be in 2, as that´s where TACA departed. Um, thanks Orbitz for telling us United wasn´t even our carrier, as that was news to me. Forty-five minutes until our plane took off, and we still had to check in again–on the complete opposite side of a sprawling airport. We broke out our best Michael Johnson track skills and bolted out of 7 and attempted to find the shuttle. Well, as I mentioned, LAX is the dumbest airport known to man and is in no way marked accordingly. Once we wasted more time and finally did find the shuttle point, the bus drove right past us without so much as stopping. Naturally. A nice driver who drove the parking lot bus did stop and offerred to take us as far as 1, at which point we made another mad dash to 2.

Once we reached our intended terminal–finally–all of the escalators were going down (in retrospect, I should have done what you do as a child and run up them the opposite direction, might have saved us a crucial five minutes) and the lone elevator didn´t arrive for another few loooong minutes. We finally re-emerged on the ticketing floor and made it to the TACA counter with 35 minutes left to have the employee tell us they had already closed the doors. (If you´re an avid traveler, you´ll know that 40 minutes is usually the point at which they stop checking people in.) Since we had already checked our baggage in SF through to Guat City, I didn´t know why the couldn´t just let us through. But it did seem we were, in a word, screwed. And would probably have to pay, literally, for our slumber.

At first the ticketing agent told us that, yes, we were essentially SOL and would have to call ticketing in the morning and purchase another flight. I would like to think my pleading puppy dog eyes persuaded her to help us in the end. SVV insists, “I played my Jedi Mind Tricks on her, and it worked.” (This from the guy who later told me we MUST visit the Rebel Base while in Guatemala.)(Don´t worry, when he starts making Dungeons & Dragons references, it´s so over.)

I´d already come to terms with the fact that we might have to book an airport hotel for the night and figure things out in the am–after years of travel gone very wrong, I´m fully accustomed to playing what ever cards I´ve been dealt. When you´re traveling, particularly to Latin America on a Latin American airline, you have to account for the unexpected; we had wisely built in a couple extra days of padding for such foreseen occurrences. But somehow (Jedi Mind Tricks likely factoring into the equation), the nice TACA lady managed to get us on a flight to Costa Rica leaving less than an hour later than our original one. And it got us to Guat only four-and-a-half hours behind schedule. In the grand scheme of things, what´s a couple of hours lost when you´re gone for 16 days in the first place? (I would be lying if I said it was pretty darn hard to not one to stay in CR for a few days and play around, as that is one country I have yet to visit.)

Three flights and 15 hours later, we finally arrived in GC around noon on Saturday. To find no luggage resembling ours on the belt. As I tried to maintain my composure and contemplate our next step, a kind TACA rep approached us and asked if we needed help (when does this ever happen in the States? Last Christmas when SVV flew out to Tennessee, they lost his luggage and it took hours of waiting in line to even get to speak with someone who might be able to track it down). We told her our names, and she said, “Ah yes, your luggage arrived before you! I have it waiting upstairs.” TACA has officially become my favorite. Airline. Ever.

Next step was renting a car and trying to navigate our way three hours west to Lage do Atitlan mapless. But that´s a story for later. For now, we´re here safe and sound, well fed, and well rested after 13 hours of sleep last night, and at the end of the day, that´s all that really matters, right? Until next time, mis amigos!