Out of the Silent Slumber

I left the glorious country of the United States of America at 8:30 p.m. on June 14. Originally I was supposed to leave at 7:50, but they stewardess said they forgot to clean the plane, and we were delayed for forty minutes. Yes, they simply forgot to clean, and we were forced to wait as they tidies up. The plan, according to my itinerary, was to arrive in Sao Paulo, hop on a bus for and hour and a half, and then jump on a plane at 1 p.m. to my final destination Campo Grande. However, if there's one thing that I've learned from my limited experience as an international traveler it's that nothing ever goes to plan. I have been blessed by God with a rare talent to sleep wherever, whenever, and in whatever situation i may be presented with. Utilizing this innate ability, I watched a couple movies on the plane and then slept the rest of the night. I woke up to a food cart smashing into my elbow. It was quite painful, but I didn't blame the stewardess she was up late cleaning. I enjoyed a rather stale croissant that came from the cart that struck my poor elbow. When I say enjoy, I mean I forced it down my throat because I knew that I wouldn't be eating for quite a while. About an hour later the pilot came on the PA and announced in the most monotone voice I may have ever heard that there was too much fog on the ground and we would have to circle the runway for 40 minutes and wait for it to clear up. I'm not sure if it was the monotone voice, my innate ability to sleep anywhere and anytime, or a combination of the two, but I decided to sleep for the duration of the rest of the flight. I glanced at my ipod to check the time. It was 9:00 when we began to circle. Even with the fog delay and the hour and a half bus ride I had no doubt that I could make my flight at one. I was thrust abruptly back into consciousness by the screeching of tires against pavement as the plane landed back on the ground. I glanced again at the clock. It was 10:30. I still believed I was doing alright on time, depending on how bad customs was. The same dreary voice came on the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen it's about 10:30 in the morning. We are taxiing up to the gate as we speak. Thanks for flying American Airlines and welcome to Rio de Janeiro." My heart dropped a couple feet into my bowels at that moment. I was supposed to be in Sao Paulo, not Rio. Apparently, I'd slept through an announcement that enlightened the rest of the plane that the fog was not clearing up and we had to land in Rio de Janeiro. We were delayed there for a couple hours. My hopes of making my flight home were dashed against the rocks. I was lost abroad. We took off again and went back to Sao Paulo. I ran through the airport desperately trying to make it through customs so that I could find another flight into Campo. Luckily they were waiting to give us vouchers for another flight right in front of customs. Unluckily those who were staying in Sao Paulo, which was basically the rest of the plane, went ahead to get in line. With a voucher in my hand and three people behind me in a line of people that had just recently filled a large plane, I waited in the queue with little hope. My flight was in less than an hour. They asked me no questions at the counter and I sprinted away to get my checked bag. I grabbed it from a pile of backs that had been knocked off the conveyor belt and Jetted off to recheck in. The line was, yet again, excessively long. Yet a still small voice rose above the roar of the crowd. "Campo Grande?" A young employee of TAM airlines pushed me to the front of the line. I check my bag and rushed off to security. I easily flew through and found my gate. I arrived as the last people were boarding. I sate down in my seat and realized a flaw in my stroke of luck. The family waiting for me in Campo had no idea that i would be arriving at 4:00 rather than 1:40. When we touched down I met a girl from the states who spoke Portuguese and had a Brazilian boyfriend with a cell phone. We called the family and they translated for me because the family that I'm staying with doesn't speak English. They were on their way to pick me up. I sat in the airports one restaurant shouting at the television with 50 other people as we watched Brazil go on and defeat North Korea in a 2 to 1 victory. Its nearly 5 hours later and the celebration in the streets have yet to stop. I suppose I can take one thing away from this panic ensuing, traveler's experience. I will never again go back to sleep if there is fog on the ground.