Well, I’m back after a fun-filled sunshine getaway. What a fabulous trip – despite the dreaded ‘travel day (s)’. Travel day is always a ‘thing’ with me – a victim of circumstance it seems.
Climate change has been wreaking havoc on so many parts of the world, and here in Toronto, Canada, where the brunt of winter usually hits in January and the even worse in February, we’d had a relatively mild winter with temps hanging around at 35-40 degrees Farenheit, and save for the odd blizzard that lasted a day then melted, winter wasn’t as brutal. But winter did finally decide to hit approximately 10 minutes before the limo picked us up for the airport at 3am.
All week the news had warnings that freezing rain and blizzard would hit by midnight – the wee hours of the morning I was to leave. I laughed it off, knowing, the weather people are the only ones who could be wrong, yet still have a job. After all, predicting all this messy precipitation one week ahead hitting at a particular time, I waved it off, I did a little praying that it wouldn’t start till later in the day, but as I zipped up the suitcases and got ready to go to the lobby, I peeked out the window and watched the whiteness swirl around in a frenzy. Within 10 short minutes, the ground had accumulated a lot of the white stuff and the winds howled.
I’ve gotten in the habit of wearing a long-sleeved shirt over a tank top and a hoodie for warmth – somewhat – when traveling. Just a quick few minutes till I’d be in the limo and then the airport, where I’d dash for a cart and the limo driver would help me load the luggage on before scooting to check-in. Well, those few moments it took to load luggage on cart and dash for the doors was some kind of cold! I thought I’d freeze to death in those short few moments. I was also glad we left at such an ungodly time of day (without sleeping) because the roads and highways were a skating rink at 3am. Thankfully, the salt/sand trucks were prepared and were already dropping the grains on the highway ahead of us to prepare for the onslaught of morning traffic, which no doubt, would have been a chaotic one.
We flew with a different Canadian airline this time after last year’s fiasco of being dropped off on the tarmac in Puerto Vallarta. But, that didn’t seem to matter. I quickly learned that flights that were delayed leaving Toronto LOST THEIR PARKING SPOTS.
It was the first time in a long time I’d flown on a plane that resembled the old jumbo jets I remembered from yesteryear. The plane was full with almost 360 passengers. We’d taken our precautions before boarding the plane, spraying our Colloidal Silver down our throats, and sniffing up our nostrils to prepare for germ attack, besides having our masks. Our plane was over an hour delayed as the runway was a nightmare and we had to wait our turn to get de-iced before taking off. I kept watching the blizzard out the small plane windows, saying under my breath, let’s go, let’s go before it gets so bad we can’t. Alas, we took off, we were on our way to sunny Mexico, despite the mostly turbulent rocky ride almost all the way there. The storm had come from the US midwest, so much of the ride was through turbulent weather until exiting American skies into sunny Mexico territory.
Yay, we landed hard, but safely. We were the first row in first class. My husband always has wheelchair assistance to and from the plane due to the very long walks to and from the gates. Usual protocol, first class gets off first, wheelchair and assistance waits at the exit doors for those in need. But not this time. This plane had two exits, and the back end started unloading at same time as first class door – only the bitchy stewardess wouldn’t let us off right away. She told us that wheelchair passengers had to wait for the plane to unload because they would hold up the people traffic. WTF? Not only that, we were on the bloody tarmac. Again!
As we are usually one of the first off, the minutes were getting long. Fifteen minutes had gone by and half the plane were taking their sweet time as the plane was getting mighty warm. I’d had enough by that point, filled with claustrophobic anxiety, I pushed past the stewardess to have a look-see at the progress of de-planing, standing at the exit doors. I decided I wasn’t waiting anymore and went back for my hub and all our carry-on crap and told him we’re going.
I barged through with all the bags while hub was on a cane and began the scary attempt at exiting down the steep, long stairway to the tarmac. I called down to one of the assistants with the wheelchair to come up the stairs and walk my husband down while I carried the load of bags, and we got on to the mini transfer bus that took us into the gates. This de-planing business is the worst part of the flight for me. I never slept on the plane and was now on no sleep for a day and a half.
We finally got in a cab and less than 10 minutes later, arrived at our rented condo on the beach. I unpacked and by then it was nearing 3pm Mexican time, an hour earlier there than our EST. Most people would have been ready to flop into bed by this point, but no, we had missions to accomplish. I let hub nap for a while I unpacked and got sorted out. Then we were off on the half mile walk (just what we felt like doing, NOT) to the bank machine to get some Pesos. From the bank we’d hop in a cab and head off for grocery shopping. By the time we got back with groceries and a bbq chicken for dinner, ate and showered, we flopped into bed at 730pm.
The trip back was more chaotic, but stay tuned for part 2 before we get there!
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