I arrive at the airport at 4. The flight isn't until 7:30. The baggage check counter isn't open yet, so I sit around and wait. When the counter opens up 30 minutes later, I get up to wait in line - I show the lady my ticket and passport, but she wants something else. I can't understand what she's trying to tell me. She asks me what country I'm from and which country I'm currently living in. I finally understand that she's talking about: a departure tax (someone had told me about it at the hostal). She tells me to go somewhere to pay the tax. I showed her my plane ticket receipt which states that I had already paid the tax. She tells me that I still had to go to a separate counter to get piece of paper saying I am exempt. Sigh...I hate bureaucracy.
Once I'm free of my bags, I can now seriously spend my time walking around aimlessly for the next two and a half hours.
The flight to Lima is 4 hours long and uneventful. I tried to sleep, but didn't manage to - I was quite excited to go home.
Once in Lima, I have just enough time to get my bearings and head to the next departure gate. The departure gate is on the ground floor, which means that we will be loaded onto one of those "airplane buses" that drive you across the tarmac to bring you to the plane. I sit and wait - there's some sort of delay. They've loaded a group of people (the "important" ones - and the ones from rows 18-25) onto the bus, but it's not going anywhere. Time ticks by. I don't know why this bugs me so much - I'm really in no hurry, in fact waiting here or waiting later in Buenos Aires is much of a muchness. Maybe I'm just tired and irritable, but the fact that they couldn't stay on schedule - or tell us why they were'nt going to be on schedule really got my ire up. The people around me started to annoy me - that guy stretched out over 4 seats catching 40 winks, who did he think he was?? And that girl with the high pitched laugh, I wanted to slap her. I began visualising their heads exploding...Boy, I was really tired! (We did eventually find out what the hold up was, the plane was late coming in from LA.)
We eventually get on the plane and off we go to Buenos Aires - another 4 or so hour flight...and again I can't manage to get any sleep.
When I get off the plane in Buenos Aires it's 7 am local time. I need to go to the baggage claim to pick up my bag and wait until 1:30pm for my flight to Sydney. But before the baggage claim...is customs. Argentina has a reciprocal visa fee that they charge to countries that charge their citizens a visa fee. I guess Canada charges a fee to visiting Argentinians because when I get to the counter they tell me I need to pay $75. Now, I started off in Argentina, so I've already paid $75, but it was a one-time entry visa (I needed to pay $150 for multiple entries). I tell the cutoms lady that I'm only in Argentina for a few hours, and I show her my plane ticket to Sydney. She pauses and then gets up to see her supervisor. When she comes back she tells me that if I have to pass the customs booths I have to pay the $75. So, in a nutshell, in order to pick up my bag, which I will soon put back on a plane, I have to pay $75. I tell her that it's ridiculous (imagine her head exploding) and pay the $75. Now, I'm not only tired and irritable; I'm also pissed off and indignant....I'm also starving.
I did get a little something on the plane which simulated a meager breakfast, but my body was on dinner time. I wanted something substantial...A steak or something. I angrily wheeled my trolley out towards the smiling faces of wating family memebers and loved ones...all their heads exploded too. I needed food - stat!
As I wheel my bags through the airport, desperate in a attempt to forage some semblance of a decent dinner at 8 in the morning, I am stimied at every food venue because one can't bring trolleys of bags inside to place an order - catch 22, I can't check my bags for another 2 hours. After walking up and down the length of the termial twice I come to the realisation that there is no way I'm getting any hot, substantial meal or on the off chance I do manage to place an order somewhere - there's no where to sit! People (who've already checked their bags) are enjoying their leisurely breakfasts - chatting; laughing; looking longingly into eachother's eyes...I'm sickened by the whole thing and I visualise them all being vaporised so that I can cook my own damn meal.
Finally, I settle on a couple of ladies who've clearly finished whatever they had ordered and are just sitting there talking, their table is right on the promenade of the terminal so technically my trolley would not be IN the restaurant. Now, as you all know I'm generally a mild-mannered person (ok, when it comes to strangers I'm mild-mannered...shut up or I'll vaporise you when next we meet...) but I was tired, hungry, sweaty, and extremely cranky. I wheeled my trolley next to them and stood there. I passively-aggressively stared at their table and sighed. And stood. And looked. And shifted my weight from foot to foot. And sighed. And looked. It took them 10 minutes to take the hint.
Vindicated with my oh-so-small win I sat down and looked at the paltry offerings on the menu. I had to settle for an extremely over-priced ham sandwich and an orange juice. Hey, you take what you can get.
I felt moderately better afterwards, but very, very tired. I wheeled my trolley to my departure date and tried to fall asleep on by bags. Fail. Too many people, too much noise...I ended up drafting this post.
I did finally ditch the bags; got on the plane; and blissfully slept for most of the flight.
Home again, home again jiggetey-jig
No comments:
Post a Comment