The Return Trip

But to understand this day, we take a look at the previous days. We were winding down in the trip, getting ready to head back. Which means that we were having “despedidas” just about every night. Despedida being the word for farewells. Generally, it means drinking, but I attempted to not get plastered every night of the week – plus I was (am) still training in capoeira. Alcohol and martial arts don’t generally mix. And because I love chocolate, I managed to talk a few people into getting hot chocolate and churros (fried and sugared dough).

Thursday, we went out and got chocolate and churros, and all was good. Kind of a shorter night, but that was fine. It was Thursday. I started packing some on Friday. Didn’t get everything that day because my clothes had just gone through the wash. So I chilled out and did my normal things. Later on in the night, we had chocolate and churros again. It was me, the other boy American that lived in my house (and continues to do so until the end of July), a girl American from my group, and her Mexican friend. Chocolate and churros. Mmmm, good. After that, we had nothing to do. We split up and Americano and I checked out a bar on the off chance that there was someone there that knew me. We had no such luck.

So on our way home, we purchased a half liter of tequila – Suiza resposada, if I recall correctly, and a few liters of refresco de toronja – I think the North of the border equivalent is Squirt. And we went home. The host parents were out for the night, and got back about quarter to four. I only know this because we were polishing off the bottle at that time. It is also my understanding that the good tequila doesn’t ship to America. But we went to bed at that point. I was waking up at 7:30am to deliver some discs to the capoeira academy at 8am, and I had to get on a bus at 10am to get to the airport with plenty of time for my flight.

I delivered the discs and bid farewell to all my friends there. Got home, finished packing, had some breakfast… Got everything together and walked out the door. The host mom flagged down a taxi for me, and I got loaded and we drove the Central, and the 10am bus to the airport didn’t exist. Ah, well. I can take a 10:30 bus to the Central in Mexico DF, and it’ll be fine. Got to watch a movie and things generally went well. I was upset that I wasn’t able to get the bus direct, but if I wanted to wait another 90 minutes, I could…

Got down to Mexico, and was immediately helped – extortion… forced hiring… forced tipping… that type of thing. I had no money to buy the taxi ticket, finally go the taxi ($110 pesos – about $10 USD) to get to the airport. (Updated total: $40 pesos for the taxi driver in QRO, $165 pesos to get to DF, $110 pesos for the taxi, $20 pesos for the tip = $335 pesos.) Got there and was immediately accosted by a guy with a dolly asking me if I wanted help. I said no, but he unloaded my bag and loaded it on his mover. I had to tip the driver there, too. He got $20 ($355 pesos). Got to the ticket counter, and was forced to tip the guy whose help I didn’t want ($375 pesos). Chilled at the counter, and we discovered that my flight was in the International wing, even though I was flying to Guadalajara first. So the guy came back, and we walked and walked.

Got to where we were going, and I had to tip him again ($400 pesos spent). Jumped in line and waited and waited. Helped some girls fill out some surveys. And waited. Mexican airport security is much more amiable than American, I decided. Didn’t even go through my bags or anything. Ever. Got up to the front, and tried to check in with Mexicana (my airline) and because my tickets were e-tickets, I had no number, because a ticket was going to be given to me when I check-in. But they had no idea about my flight. Mexicana, #840. Didn’t exist. They said to try Aeromexico. At this point, I also lost my paper copy of my itinerary because she didn’t give it back.

So I shrug, and go to Aeromexico. Get my bag checked again, and get up to the desk, and they don’t know a thing about my flight. I knew it was with Mexicana, but I was just following what they said. And I was told to go back to Mexicana. I went back to Mexicana, and got a little bit more help. He said I could check the ticket counter / main offices across the hall and that I could leave my bag there. So I turn around to the cool guys who check bags and ask if I can leave my bag. They said no. I was getting upset at the runaround. So I compose myself and go to the office. I get my number, and get up to the desk and we search for my name and flight number, and we get….

Nothing. So I try Aeromexico (hey – why not?) and we get nothing again. Mexico has conspired against me to keep me there. I ask Aeromexico when they have a direct flight to Chicago. At 8:35pm. The time was, at that point, 3pm. I don’t know about you, but my idea of a good time does not involve sitting five hours in an airport. I go back to Mexicana and ask about their flight. At 5:30. That sounded better. And they had seats, too! I pulled out my debit card, and bought a plane ticket. For $286.94 USD. So in pesos, I’ve spent $3,556.34. What. The. ****. (I’ll let you decide which colorful four letter word I’d like to use.) But at that point, I finally had a ticket. So I could check in. And get my … flight.

The flight itself was very nice. The pasta was scrumptious enough. All of it had better have been awesome for having to buy two frickin’ return trip tickets. We flew in an Airbus A390, but nobody cares about that part. Got to Chicago and had no reception on my phone and the folks were somewhere in Chicago, but not yet at the airport. Plus, I landed two hours ahead of schedule. So I chilled out, and played on my computer. They showed up in due time, and we headed back to Muskegon.

I’m still working on letters to the online ticket people and the airline.