mad in pursuit

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Saturday, June 10, 2000
Dallas/Fort Worth Airport
Dallas, Texas

6:22 PM Should be arriving now in Mexico City but have been delayed. Torrential rains, then mechanical problems. Aircraft back to hangar — waiting for replacement to arrive from Orlando.

Me: stewing and emotional. In front of our seats, rain is pouring through the ceiling and soaking the carpet. It takes till the second sweep of thunder showers for one of the staff to think of putting a wastebasket beneath the stream.

Jim: calm as usual — "let's get something to eat and drink." (American Airlines gives us $10 each to go snack at TGI Fridays.) He tries to point out this difference between us is a pattern. Yes, he's right but I'm in no mood to hear it.

The eats (greasy cajun chicken fingers and fries) and wine help me pull out of the funk. Yes, I know there's nothing we can do but I prefer to sulk. I suppose I could be one of those folks who work themselves into a rage and scream at everyone — that's be worse.

Mexico City, Mexico

We are too late to catch the bus to San Miguel. The person who was supposed to meet us is long gone. I had hoped he would have at least stuck around to tell us what to do next. That would have been world-class customer service… but no, we're on our own. Jim has at least read in the guidebook that there is a hotel in the airport, so we figure that's an option for the night's sleep anyway.

We meet up with one of those jolly and high pressure taxi majordomos. My Spanish gushes out for the first time, probably incomprehensible because I don't even know what to ask. Between Jim and I we explain our plight. The majordomo tells us there's a Hilton and Marriott in the airport but urges us to avoid them because they cost $250 a night. "A taxi takes you to a hotel 10-15 minutes from here, near downtown, right near the bus station," he says in Spanish. Jim is tempted but I put my foot down. I don't care if it costs a thousand dollars, I'm not budging. I'm worried about calling our hosts in San Miguel and figuring out the arrangements for morning. I know enough to know Mexico has all kinds of bus stations but not enough to know which one we need.

So we drag our sorry asses up ramps and elevators to the posh Hilton and get a room for $165 (feels like a bargain after what the taxi guy said).

I hate phoning in almost every circumstance but dialing in a foreign country to conduct business is… well, something I've never done. But after a couple false starts trying to decipher the phone instructions I get my AT&T service and connect right to Liza. She is chatty and understanding. She also says we can pick up the bus to Queretaro right at the airport and grab a taxi to her bed & breakfast.

Fabulous. I send Jim right out to get the bus schedule, confirm the bus stop location, and change some money. He is successful. Now we can sleep.

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