There She Goes…

And I didn’t really mean to! I thought I would end my 6 months of travel by laying on (or is it lying on) the beach. I figured, the money will come back and my time wouldn’t. Also, I kind of wanted to show up in San Diego with a wicked tan (which even for me is possible) and I thought being at a resort would be my best option. But getting here was one small (OK maybe 2 adventures!) that I wouldn’t have traded for anything.

For the past 2 days, I was staying in San Jose (Costa Rica). I’ve been a little rattled by the disappearance and subsequent body finding of that American tourist, Carla. I spent my last night in Tortuguero intending to stay in and then I met some Spaniards. And you all know how much I love a) Spanish people and b) Irish people. So I went out with them because it was 5 guys and Amy. Also, one asked me to go get a haircut with him and I don’t know about you, but that was pretty cool/random.

But when I got to San Jose, I knew I’d be “home” for the 2 days. And so I stayed in my hostel, only venturing out for water. But in my hostel, I met 2 Canadian sisters (I know, Canadians are everywhere!) and we chit chatted a bit. Then, they awoke this morning with the dreaded “flight delay” email from the airline. I already had a car coming so they asked if they could ride to the airport with me. I said why not because a) I paid for the ride anyway and b) they were really nice. I arrive at the airport (ON TIME), per my M.O. and comfortably sail up to the gate for departure. We leave Costa Rica and even though we landed 5 minutes late, I had to run through the airport at San Salvador to make my connecting flight. WE’LL call that, RUNNING PART ONE. No biggie, I make it. Whew!

I land in Belize and the immigration officer asks me zero questions. It’s like he doesn’t care. Cool. We all get tired or bored at our jobs sometimes. Customs officer is impressed I’ve traveled for 6 months alone. But again, no biggie. I’m about 2 hours from my small puddle jumper plane to San Pedro. So I do what everyone else is doing. I head to the bar. And I’m on drink #3 when I hear my name on the intercom. Oh shit, I have to be at the plane! So I run!! We’ll call that RUNNING NUMBER 2! And they’re yelling my name and I’m like “yes, that’s me.” So a man escorts me to the boarding line and it’s not like the plane is waiting for me. We’re waiting for the plane. I get up the gangway (I think that’s the right word – we’re boarding outside) and the guy tells me to stop. I’m like, “whoa, I’m here. What?” They confer with each other and then say, “you’re sitting copilot.” I say “what?! I’ve been drinking.” But they aren’t concerned. And one of them escorts me to the copilot seat. I get in and ask another passenger to take my picture because seriously, when will this ever happen again…and he says, “you’re a passenger?! Don’t touch anything.” Pilot was cool. Smiled at me and I thought, you’ve got a nice gig sir and you got us safely to our destination. So props! Here are some views from the copilot seat. This is serious blog gold. Moral of the story? Show up late to the small plane because you killed time at the bar.

I arrive in San Pedro (an island in Belize) and I have a driver to take me the dock. For a boat ride to the resort. Which turns out to be a private boat ride because I’m the only one coming in at this time. As we pull up to the dock, a woman is waiting with a rum punch for me and walks me to my hotel room. Where my HOUSEKEEPER is casually turning down my bed. Say what?! I didn’t know I was booking all this but what a way to end this 6 months!!