È Finito La Musica...

If I’d known ahead of time that leaving Mexico would be such a debacle, I’d have tried much harder to stay much longer.

Our stay at the Westin Club Regina wasn’t the greatest (OK – not even close), but a week at the beach, even if you have to stay in a grass roof shack, is still better than a week at home in 26 degree weather.  I will say that had the weather not been gorgeous and the tours stupendous, the crappy rooms and less than stellar property would have been much more irksome.  In the end, though, even though they made us check out at 10 am and hang in the lobby with our luggage for a few hours, the trip to Mexico was still a blast.

I had originally thought that the day was going to go well, though every indication was to the contrary.  I woke up at 6.45 am due to the noise from the staff cleaning the pool – UGH.  That’s ok though – silver lining is that the alarm clock had been set wrong by my overtired brain the night before – better to get up too early than too late, right?  No problem – I’m up, I’ll pack and get everything ready.  I make coffee – the coffee maker has an identity crisis and brews espresso.  Ok – no worries – I’ll microwave some water and dilute it.  I pack everything up except what I’m going to wear, and take a shower.  I go to get dressed, and realize that I packed ALL of my underwear. Not caring to go commando for the next 18 hours and two countries, I discover that my underwear is at the BOTTOM of the last suitcase I check. Hey, at least I have some that are clean!

But whatever, I got it together - we checked out, we made our way to the airport.  And when I say "made it to the airport", what I mean is: "barely survived the ride in an automobile obviously driven by someone hopped up on amphetamines."  I don't know how many of you have had the pleasure of foreign cab rides, but they are usually a thrill a minute.  Don't get me wrong - I'm not a white knuckle rider by any stretch of the imagination, and behind the wheel I have often been accused of trying to Mario Andretti every square inch of asphalt under my wheels.  However - however - however - I R-E-S-P-E-C-T the Lug Nut Rule.  (Lug nuts are what hold your tires on your rims, and the rules of the road are that he who has the most lug nuts, and thus the biggest tires, rules.)  Our driver this morning held a different opinion entirely, viewed every stop sign we passed as "stoptional", and yielded only reluctantly and at the very last second to some very large vehicles.  I felt certain we'd be sheared in half before ever arriving at the airport.  I don't think Mom breathed once on the entire ride.

The fact that we arrived at the airport in approximately 34.6 seconds from our hotel made me doubly glad that we arrived to the longest lines we'd ever seen, an hour and 20 minute wait to get our boarding passes, and a plane that was delayed for 3 hours.  Considering we only had an hour layover in Dallas, the day was already looking like one for the history books.

Really, it was just a ploy to get us to explore the new and improved PV airport - they have done a TON of work since we last came through, and the whole place is now a shopper's paradise.  We stopped and had lunch, and I tried to take a picture of a FANTASTIC mural on the wall - but got reprimanded by security, while a guy stood 10 feet from me, snapping away on his instant camera.  I must have a sign - "I <3 authority!"  But I was sneakier than they thought, and at full zoom from our lunch table, managed to get a crappy picture that in no way demonstrates the awesomeness of the artwork. So there.

 

I did manage to get a cool shot of the Absolut display - they put out a bottle for the holidays that had a red sequined sheath that zippered up the back.  Too cool.  I haven't seen these in the States, but I hang out in bars, not in liquor stores, so it's entirely possible I missed them.  I might have missed them consciously though - I can only imagine the coordination nightmare one might face trying to extract the bottle from it's sleeve in a state of intense inebriation...not pretty, although an effective way to prevent excessive consumption. After a good number of drinks, anything requiring my thumbs to work in conjunction with the rest of my fingers is strictly off my list of things to do.  

 

So, the new PV airport is nice.  I got both new issues of Nat'l Geographic and NG Traveler for less than they cost in the States (irony), and found a new pottery artist that I can in no way, shape or form afford, but whose work I really like - Cristina Riveroll.

 

She's got this gorgeously organic pottery that kind of reminds me of coral pieces - the ones that wash up on shore - but it's almost translucently fragile, so wafer thin as to look like paper that she molded into these wonderfully odd shapes.  As my boy Scooby Doo would say - I rike it... I rike it rots.

AND THANK GOD I ENJOYED MY STAY IN THE PV AIRPORT, cause DFW (Dallas Fort Worth, to you non-cowboys and girls) was a cluster wrapped in a debacle and tied off in a fat disaster bow. 

We ended up on the 8 pm flight out of DFW, since our plane was so late from PV, and the lovely lovely agent Sue in PV moved us to the 8pm no charge, AND upgraded us to first class.  We like Sue, she's money. Except that our flight coming in was made to taxi, then had a 15 min gate hold, so we landed at 7.48 for an 8 pm departing flight, and still had to go through security, baggage claim, rechecking the luggage, and then customs, and THEN on to the next terminal over on the train.  Oh. Mah. Goodness.

Yes, kids, we pulled an OJ.  Flat out, shirt tails flapping, taking off our shoes and hopping through the sensors all at the same time flat out run across the airport.  To the three guys that let us in front of them at the security checkpoint - you all are gentlemen.  We wouldn't have made it without your generosity.  To the lovely lady in customs who told everyone in front that we were in a hurry and cleared the path - you're a gem and I hope you win the lottery.  You deserve it.  To the completely uninterested Federal agent who was holding a conversation with a fellow agent over the wall and took 6 minutes to look at our passports, even when we told you we had 30 seconds to catch our connecting flight - I'm pretty sure there's a voodoo doll somewhere in the world with your picture tacked on it's face.  No thanks for you. And lastly, to the lovely, lovely, supercalifragilisticexpialidociosly delicious Alecia and Jenny and the captain of our flight - thanks very  much for bringing the jetway BACK TO THE PLANE so that we could get on.  I've never seen that done before, and I am pretty sure I will be eternally grateful that you performed miracles so that we didn't have to sleep on the airport floor.

Yeah, that's how it happened.  OJ sprint aside, Mom lost her passport somewhere along the way - neither of us noticed it fall out, and we got to the gate after the doors were closed, the plane sealed up, and the people all ready to go. Mom, me, Dan the Marine, and Fletcher the MPD cop - about to be stranded.  Alecia called the captain, he gave her the no go, and we had already started the reticketing process for the morning flight and were making plans to go out drinking with our two new handsome friends when the magic phone rang, and the captain changed his mind.  I love a man who's flexible.

WEEEEEE-HAW! (As they say in Dallas.)

Our frenzied boarding down a partially retracted walkway into a plane with everyone else on board already belted was followed by the loveliest sight I have seen in a long time...an aerial view of Dallas Fort Worth from the window of a seat in first class. Succulent and delicious.

 

Thankfully, the flight home was largely uneventful, with only minor turbulence, an incredibly irritated stewardess (sorry, doll, but we made the flight! YAY!) and a complete hard drive failure of my mom's brand new laptop with all of our vacation pictures on it.  *sigh*  By the time we got into DCA and down to the baggage area, I didn't even care that our bags hadn't made the flight with us.  I'm home, we filed a claim to have the bags delivered (18 hours later and they're still not here) and I've almost got the laptop back to where I can recover data.  Life is good.

SO - it's been a busy week, with a tumultuous ending, but we're home, we're safe, and my puppies' tails haven't stopped wagging yet. In a way, I'm kind of glad that everything eventually comes to an end, otherwise there'd be no room for new beginnings, right?