“Miss Morris, your luggage is still in Auckland.”
Great. After spending more than 24 hours flying and in transit, those were the last words I wanted to hear. It was about 4pm in Mexico City, and all I desired was a hot shower and a comfy bed. My delayed luggage was not the only setback I experienced that day. The private transfer I had organised to take me to my hotel was also a no show (probably because I had wasted a significant amount of time fussing around with a baggage claims representative). I paced around the airport somewhat helplessly, trying to collect my thoughts and figure out what to do next. After unsuccessfully attempting to call my pick-up, I asked the two men behind me, Fernando and his son Rodrigo, for assistance. Completely flustered, I explained my situation to them and they calmly asked for the contact details of the transfer company. They phoned them on my behalf to rearrange where to collect me from. I probably thanked them about a thousand times before we went our separate ways. My driver eventually emerged from the crowd, carrying a sign that stated my name in bold, black lettering. I pushed past other loitering travellers to meet him. “Only one bag?” he asked. “Yes” I sighed. We walked out of the airport together, crossed a busy thoroughfare, and hopped into the car. As we drove through the city, I could feel my heart jump as I watched the traffic moving around us: cars changing lanes unexpectedly, motorbikes weaving through impossibly small gaps, and even pedestrians running in front of vehicles without so much as looking in both directions. If I was feeling tired and weary before this, I was certainly awake now. After a good forty-five minutes of near-death experiences, we finally pulled up at my hotel, the Royal Reforma. I slung my trusty Country Road bag over my shoulder and wandered over to the woman at reception who handed me my room key. 1302. I made my way to my room, opened the door and threw my bags on the floor. I proceeded to walk over to my window. “Wow.” I think I looked at that view for at least five to ten minutes. My eyes glanced over the cityscape, following the outlines of the buildings and observing the haphazard flow of traffic. It was the most surreal feeling realising that I was no longer in Auckland. After enjoying a short nap, I decided it was time to assess the contents of my carry-on bag. It is fortunate that I am the sort of person who always prepares for worst-case scenarios. In my bag I had packed a few changes of clothes and underwear, basic toiletries, and even a set of togs for the beach (and a towel for that matter). Considering I was about to start a fast-paced, 18 day tour of Central America, completing this trip without my check-in luggage was a very real possibility. I decided to pamper myself by taking a bath and indulging in the hotel's offerings: an all-in-one shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, and a body moisturiser that smelt vaguely of flowers. There is no denying that this was the epitome of luxury. In all seriousness though, after a hellish time getting to Mexico, a relaxing bath was the perfect end to my day. Eventually, I crawled into bed and watched episodes of “Mom” and “The Big Bang Theory” before drifting off to sleep. I only had one more day to wait until I met my tour group and I could not have been more excited.
3 Comments
debra
15/5/2016 05:17:46 pm
Can't wait for next installment.
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Anu
15/5/2016 07:55:45 pm
Ahhhh....where is the next chapter; I'm loving it and addicted from the start!!! You are an incredible writer B!!! :)
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Belinda
15/5/2016 07:59:08 pm
Thanks Anu! Part two won't be too far away :) x Leave a Reply. |
B is:A 26-year-old tea drinking writer of words trying to find her place in the world.
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