Same Day, 11:01 p.m. Cozumel Time
And the saga continues. I’m in my room. I made it here and I’m still alive.
Okay, I must give credit where credit is due. I must thank He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless for everything he taught me, regardless of how he taught me. Without the experience and knowledge, I’m not sure I would have survived some of the tests of today with the integrity and finesse that I did.
The flight went without incident, although I must make it a rule that if I want a window seat, I must refrain from drinking coffee right before the flight. I sat next to a young Asian couple who were grossly involved in each other, and I hated to disturb them, so the usual, dinner came, had to go, couldn’t get out, etc.
Landed in Cancun on time, a four hour flight. No problems, little turbulence.
I went through immigration with no problems. Got my bags with no problems. My dive bag is difficult to maneuver, obvious to me why it was on sale. But I get it figured out okay. As I was on my way out of the airport, they x-rayed the bags again, and stopped me. The first man said to me, “Do you have anything to declare?” I said no I didn’t. The second man took my dive bag as I was trying to hook it up to my suitcase. I thought he was trying to be helpful. He asked me if I was carrying fresh fruit. I said no. He said do you have apples with you? I said no. He said you are sure you have no fresh fruit. I said, yes, I’m sure.
He threw the bag up on a table and opened my bag. Okay, I thought, go ahead.
He pulled out the can of Pork and Beans I’d brought for Tim and, what the hell is her name??? He stared intently at the label. I asked if it was okay? He said yes, looked through my bag some more, and then zipped it up.
Wild.
Once he was done with me, I had to try to hook my bags up again. I was feeling quite foolish, but didn’t care what people thought. I was on my own, and who cares.
Got them hooked up and headed out of the airport. Stopped at the currency exchange booth. When I’d left home, it was about 30 something degrees. I had on a long sleeve shirt and my travel pants. When I got to Cancun, it was about 80 degrees, and with all the exertion of dealing with my luggage, I was sweating profusely. My hair was sticking to my face. As I approached the woman in the exchange booth, I said hello and how are you, in Spanish. She assumed that I spoke Spanish and started rattling off something that I had no idea? I tried to guess, in English, told her I spoke poquito Spanish and she shrugged. I handed her a couple of twenties and proceeded to put away my jacket and play with my luggage some more. She handed me my pesos and receipt through the little tray at the bottom of the plexiglas window. I said Gracias and moved on.
Got to find a shuttle, that was my biggest worry on this trip. Getting a shuttle to Playa del Carmen for the ferry. I stopped at the first booth called Green Line and the woman said she could get me a ride to Playa del Carmen for $30. Okay, sign me up. She then said it would be 25 minutes until the next shuttle. I asked if there was another shuttle service? She asked the woman next to her if she had any shuttles. “No tengo,” don’t have, was her answer. Okay, sign me up. As I was pulling out my $30, she said, well, if there is no one else to ride in 25 minutes, then you will have to pay another $30 and we can take you in a taxi, okay? What could I say? No other shuttles? I didn’t see a choice and it was getting late.
A man walked up, took my shuttle ticket out of my hand and grabbed my suitcases and we headed out of the last part of the airport. We walked down the sidewalk, past lines of people, and tour guides with their signs waiting for groups. He dropped my luggage next to a light pole and said wait here. They will pick you up here, 25 minutes. He handed me my ticket back and I handed him a dollar. He stared at it as if it were foreign, (which it was), said a reluctant gracias and headed off.
And there I stood. Watching as other shuttles and taxis filled up and left. I waited. A man who was wearing a shirt that said “Transportation” on it came up to me and said “Two Minutes”. I saw that he had escorted a group of three people to stand there at the curb. And after some creative eavesdropping realized they too were waiting for a Greenline Shuttle. Two of them were a man and his daughter that I had taken notice of at LAX while waiting for our plane. The other man seemed nice enough and was talking with them. Eventually they were all herded over in my direction with all of their luggage., putting them in the primero place. Then three more showed up behind me. A woman about my age and two girls, about 16 or so I guessed. They asked the man how long and he said “Two Minutes”. I smiled.
I decided I was too tired to play the “Hi, how are you and where are you from” game so I stood there in silence and ignored all of them.
I listened to the Transportation Man as he talked on his walkie talkie. He had a worried look on his face and was speaking Spanish. I could get the gist of what he was saying, that he had too many people, and too much luggage .
Eventually a shuttle showed up and he started putting people on it and talking to the driver in Spanish. They started loading all of our luggage into the van, and talking to each other in Spanish. I listened. The woman and two youngsters go on first. Then the father and daughter. The man who was by himself and I found ourselves standing waiting for direction. I tried to be friendly and make some sort of joke or gesture and he acted as though I might possibly have the plague. The Transportation man said something to us both that I understood was that we were going on a different van. The man by himself, got upset and confused and the Transp. Man told us to get in the van. There were three seats. Man and daughter in first one, second one empty, third one, woman and two youngsters.
I got on and popped into the second seat. The man by himself wedged himself into a small side seat in the front row. Fine, fuck you, I thought.
We drove around the parking lot to a different parking lot, all of about a minute and a half, and the shuttle parked. The man by himself got confused and had no idea what was going on. The man and his daughter, well, the daughter said, do we get out here too? I said, no, we are going to Playa, you are not. And then I was quiet and got out of the shuttle, walked over to the other shuttle and made sure my luggage was on it. The man by himself followed me over to the other shuttle, realizing that maybe I wasn’t so plaguish after all and tried to be friends.. I wasn’t having it and left him to fend for himself. I got on the new shuttle next to a young man and young woman. The man by himself got into the back row sitting with two young women. There were two Mexican gentlemen sitting quietly in the front row.
And off we went. The sun was going down, the sky was full of incredible pink clouds and then it was dark.
I sat and listened to the young man and woman next to me and the man by himself and the young woman next to him, to their various conversations. When the first young woman started talking about how much better she was than her sister, and the man by himself was asking the woman next to him what it was like to live in Spain, I’d had enough. I pulled out my iPod and put on Lady Gaga and tried not to sing out loud.
