Unbelievably, it's already time to close the chapter on Central America and begin the new one on North America.
It seems that my travel companions and I are destined for bad luck when it comes to journeys, as Michael and I encountered several bumps en route to the airport; I had an actual nightmare getting to San Francisco; and Thomas didn't even make it!
Just before Michael and I left our hotel room I received a Facebook message from Thomas telling me that his flight had been delayed by 2 hours, which meant that he was likely to 1) miss his connection in Toronto, or 2) be on the receiving end of no bags when he landed in San Francisco. Then Michael and I stepped outside to be met by blinding sunshine and thick, heavy, hot air. Perfect timing; where had this glorious weather been the last 3 days? And, really, arriving just in time to escort us on our walk in our warm plane clothes saddled with all of our luggage to the bus station? Delightful.
Once Michael and I eventually arrived at the bus station, we were "perspiring heavily" to put it delicately. We had previously bought return tickets from Playa del Carmen to Cancun, which we had been told a few days prior that we would be able to exchange for tickets to the Aeropuerto. Apparently, this was not so, however. With time running out until our scheduled bus was due to depart, Michael tried to purchase the correct tickets without putting up a fight. But, of course, they didn't accept card. A short jog to the ATM and a heavy transaction fee charge to withdraw the equivalent of £7 later, we were in possession of the golden tickets and boarded the bus. Bad news was delivered when the bus driver told us that my flight was departing from Terminal 3, and Michael's from Terminal 2, as we had assumed that we could spend all of our time together until Michael's flight took off 3 hours before mine.
Instead, I joined him to check-in in Terminal 2, where we found out that we were supposed to have kept the immigration cards that we were given 2 weeks earlier when entering Mexico, and would be charged $30 each to replace them. Whilst Michael ran off to Immigration to fill out the requisite forms, I set about paying for the extra piece of baggage (my rucksack) that he would be taking back to the UK, to which I was informed a charge of $78 was payable. The airport suddenly became a very expensive place to be. I somehow had a stroke of genius, however, and by the time Michael returned had totally repacked our bags, reducing his rucksack to a slightly oversized but just about acceptable carry-on piece, saving myself money I really could not afford to be parting with! (This temporarily greatly improved my spirits, until I remembered that it really was nearing the time we would have to say goodbye). With about 20 minutes to spare, we got our usual orders from Starbucks and sat against a pillar on the floor having a bit of a soppy farewell. I know 5 weeks is not a long time, but it is a long time for us, and it's never nice saying bye! We walked our separate ways, turning for a final wave (which broke me), before I dashed into the Ladies to sort out my puffy little eyes. I hope you land safely bear! X
I took a free shuttle to Terminal 3 shortly afterwards, to be met by the world's longest ever queue. I kid you not, I have never seen a queue that long before, for anything. It snaked the entirety of the normal check-in barriers, before extending into 3 more lines that spanned the whole length of the terminal.
^ Those 2 pictures show the length of just 1 of the 3 lines; I queued for 2 and a half hours just to check-in!!! I was genuinely shaking from hunger and thirst by this point as it was now 4pm and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. At least checking in had consumed so much time that it wasn't long before we were boarding the plane. But I was more than disappointed to find that there were no TV's or food (including snacks!) served on the 6-hour flight; United Airlines is officially on par with Ryanair.
Touchdown in San Francisco. I raced off that plane as fast as my feet could carry me in the hope of a speedy exit from the airport and into my bed. Clearly someone up above was having great fun at my expense however, as I ended up joining an endless Immigration queue that took me an hour and a half to navigate, whilst US residents flew past me.
The hotel Thomas and I were staying in had given me instructions to use the "courtesy phone" in the Departures terminal to call for a hotel shuttle but, as it turned out, this was actually impossible to do since it only allowed you to call extension numbers within the airport. Wonderful. With no mobile phone and no one able (or willing) to help me, pure exhaustion and frustration took its hold and the tears started to flow. ALL I WANTED WAS MY BED. Anyway, I somhehow stumbled to the bus station and found the hotel shuttle bay, which is where I mercifully discovered the elusive phone that I was meant to use. Once I'd called the hotel and been told that a shuttle would be sent, I began to relax. At last, the end was near. But no. The shuttle took an hour and a half to show, with one false alarm where I thought my shuttle had arrived and I ran into the road flailing my arms around, only to find that it was going to a different location of my hotel. I burst into tears on the spot. Once I did in fact board the correct shuttle 3 hours after landing, I was overjoyed to arrive at my hotel within just 7 minutes; I wish I had walked!
By this point it was gone midnight and with a full day of travelling under my belt, all I wanted was to lie down and close my eyes. Apparently I was not deserving of such luxury, though, as the receptionist curtly informed me that I had no reservation at the hotel. I think I had been reduced to a zombie as this news drew no reaction whatsoever from me; I was already mentally changing into my PJ's and camping out in the lobby. Thankfully, however, they had room for me, and within a few minutes I came face to face with heaven; a big fat shiny fluffy white bed.
I connected to the wifi to see where Thomas was, to open a message from him informing me that he was in Canada, as the delayed flight out of the UK had made him miss his connection and there were no more flights leaving Toronto until morning. All there was left to do at this point was laugh. I honestly don't think even the most inventive writer could come up with a more eventful travelling story. Oh well, tomorrow is a new day and (fingers crossed) Thomas will arrive early to share it with me. I can't wait!
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