I'm not sure I want to go back home to the frozen north, but only because I'd have to travel with my darling Ashley again. She started whining upon arrival at the local airport shortly after my dad dropped us off. It was kind of cute actually because he really wanted to help me with the luggage despite the fact he's not strong or coordinated enough to be of any real assistance. I told him to stay in the car while I wrestled with my 2 checked bags, 2 carry-on bags, and each of our "personal" items. I was already irritated because I was up until midnight waiting for my sister-in-law Aide to show up with whatever it was I was supposed to bring with me, which in turn became my second checked bag. It didn't help that I had to rearrange everything to bring my largest bag to exactly 50 pounds to avoid a fee for overweight luggage, and my carry-on was an overstuffed duffle bag. I had separated my electronics for easy removal from my carry-on and my toiletries were in my largest checked bag; my goal was to not be "that person" who holds up the line at security.
Our first order of business was discovering the location of our terminal, after which my priority became brunch. We went to this pretentious French bakery/cafe and ordered the only thing on the menu that appealed to me - a breakfast quesadilla. I should have known better, I mean the menu stated that all of the ingredients (including the whole-wheat tortilla) were organic. I was served an nearly tasteless plate of barely edible food, for which I was charges $12. Ashley insisted that I remove the green stuff (wilted and overcooked spinach) and the following conversation occurred:
Ashley: Mamí, why are these seeds in my food?
Me: Those are black beans sweetie. Don't pick at them, you like beans.
Ashley: No I don't.
Me: Yes you do, just like Papí.
Ashley: So pick them out and save them for Papí.
This is when I discovered that gatorade is just as painful as milk when launched from your nose.
Finally it was time to go wait at the gate. We boarded and sat down, and I tried to keep Ashley from losing her mind while we waited for takeoff. At this point I'd like to publicly thank the nice lady in the window seat of our row; I'm grateful for your understanding and patience in regards to my 4 and a half year old child, not everyone is so diplomatic when awoke during a flight nor do they show the overly inquisitive child next to them what game they're playing on their tablet. We arrived at our first destination ahead of schedule, leaving 2 hours until the next flight. One of the people on our first flight was taking the same connection so I offered to show them where to go.
Ashley whined most of the time we were in this transitional airport and decided last minute she was hungry. This was my first meal at Popeye's and I have to say it was pretty good. We stopped at Brookstone so I could purchase something to attach my checked bags together when we arrived, and we boarded our nearly empty flight to Mexico. I was happy because it appeared we were going to have the row to ourselves when some guy sat next to me. SERIOUSLY?! There was a perfectly acceptable row of empty seats across from us and he sat next to the irritated mother and her miserably bored (and cranky) 4 year old. I made him move so we could leave to find an empty row. We ended up sitting in the seats of late arrivals, but they took the row behind us without complaint. This flight was more difficult than the other as she'd already played with all her toys and read all her books and was just as irritated as I was. I filled out the customs form and waited impatiently for the announcement to have a seat backs upright and tray takes stowed in preparation for landing. The end of this day was near, thank the Lord, I honestly didn't think I could take much more of this.
Disembarking was just as irritating as I remembered; go down this hallway, turn the corner, go up the escalators, down another hallway, go up more escalators, down another hallway, and down the stairs because the escalators don't work just like the elevator. I'm surprised I made it to customs without tripping or Ashley closelining someone with our wrist strap thingy. She wasn't happy being tied to me, but she understood the necessity so bore out without much complaint. While in line for immigration I discovered I was missing a form, but an employee brought me one and helped me fill it out. After my form was complete, I got bumped to the front of the line and was out searching for my baggage faster than I had hoped. They had security personnel on the route directing traffic and I found my luggage without much trouble. My almost new suitcases looked like they had been beaten with cricket bats; the little one in particular looked as though it had barely survived the beating.
A portero, who probably thinks I'm cheap since I didn't tip him, loaded my bags onto a cart and took me to the busier of the exits because "everyone is usually at this door waiting". I pushed the button (red light) and unlocked my suitcases for inspection. There's nothing like having a male security guard pawing your zebra stripped undies while looking for contraband. With that done, I closed my suitcases and stacked them as best I could. I walked out of the door and my heart sank, my husband was not in the crowd waiting on the other side of the door. I thought he might be at the other door, so I muscled my way though the sea of people and started towards the other door when I saw him. My love, my Alberto was walking right towards me without having seen me he was so intent on getting to the door I had just came through. I got his attention and his smile was as brilliant as the sun breaking through the clouds to shine on me.
Our first kiss in what seemed like decades was witnessed by that same sea of people plus our daughter and we didn't give a damn.
On the ride from the airport the stress of international travel with a small child caught up with me. My head started pounding and my stomach revolted against me. I just wanted to lay down and had to refuse to eat as I didn't think I could keep it down. I was in no condition to travel an additional 2 hours to mi suegra's house. We stayed the night at the Madrina's house and I got to spend the first night in Mexico in privacy with my husband.
It was a good night...
Ciao
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