page two

I still remember the first day I arrived and how different things were in Bordonal from the stops on the way there. We left San Jose for the Phoenix stopover. In Phoenix we thought we would barely be in time to catch our next flight so we rushed through the airport like madmen, squeezing through the throngs of cranky travelers. As it turned out, our flight was delayed and we not only had plenty of time to get checked in, we were able to eat and still had probably a half hour wait before we boarded the plane. Still, that is the way of people in the United States. No matter where you are going, you need to get there in a hurry because otherwise you might miss something important.

I was fortunate in my seating for the flight. I sat on the window on the exit row with nobody seated beside me. I had leg room and scenery and personal space. Of course, most of the flight we were well above the clouds so there was really no scenery to speak of. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of rugged mountains or a small body of water, but that was about all.

Finally I saw the ocean shore and scores upon scores of palm trees. We got lower and lower, those trees thrusting upward in a vain attempt to pierce the soft underbelly of the modern monstrosity that is a passenger plane and bring it crashing to earth. It briefly seemed they might succeed as all I saw as we descended were those trees. Moments before our wheels touched I saw dirt and then the harbinger of modernity and so-called civilization, asphalt. Soon the plane taxid to a stop and the passengers began the post-landing feeding frenzy.

Storage compartments were flung open, people pushed aside, and items snatched forth so they could disembark the moment the ramps struck the plane. Then they stood impatiently and uncomfortably in the cramped confines of the plane, waiting.

I sat quietly in my seat, looking out the small port hole window. I was a little surprised to see a couple of army men bearing automatic weapons, but hey...different countries have different customs. Who am I to judge how they handle their business?

Deb, Gabe and I were, I believe, the last passengers to disembark. We left in no hurry, with no pushing or shoving. Unsurprisingly, we had plenty of time to disembark before the plane left again. Even less surprisingly, there was a line to go through customs so any advantage we might have gained in rushing off the plane would have been lost. Ixtapa would be our home for the next 45 minutes or hour.