Trouble At The Airport
People say traveling is fun, but during my most recent trip, my bladder and legs didn’t agree.
At approximately 5:30 p.m. on June 24, my sister, Anne, and I dashed through the gigantic airport in Panama in Central America to get to our departure gate.
We lugged around two bags each and bladders filled with orange juice after a three and half hour flight from Miami to Panama. Eventually, we were able to make a pitstop in the restroom.
Briefly resting our legs helped us sprint faster. We had gone from Gate 110 to Gate 205 but still had 20 more gates to go until we could breathe at a normal pace.
When we got to Gate 225, we were told we might have to spend the night in Panama and fly to Brazil the next day. But we were given one last hope: run to Gate 245 to see what options existed. Anne and I made one final dash.
As our steps got shorter and shorter from fatigue, we stopped and looked at the screens that displayed the departing flights.
We searched for ours, CM440, in hopes of finding an answer to the mess.
Gate 214 was the response. Our flight was calling the last group when we handed in our passports and tickets.
“You’re the last ones,” the air hostess said.
We were one step closer to entering Brazil, our home country, after not visiting for three years due to the pandemic.
Our reward for our marathon was some sort of mysterious slimy meat, cornbread and a powerful stomach ache.
But there is more.
When we arrived in São Paulo, Brazil, we were supposed to ship our bags off and wait for our flight to Brasília (the capital).
We went up and down the elevator five times until we figured out the floor we were supposed to get off on. After another quick bathroom stop, we continued searching for the place that would ship our bags off to our final destination.
Anne and I looked everywhere, but the place was nowhere to be found. Our last option was to call our father in hopes he’d know, luckily he did.
After an hour and a half of searching for the airline’s bag drop-off area, we found it tucked away in an isolated corner on the first floor.
With everything resolved, we went off to celebrate at Subway. Our prize: a delicious Italian sandwich with cheese, chicken breast, black olives, lettuce and mayo.
Once we arrived in Brasília, we embarked on a three-hour road trip with our family to Goiânia, our hometown.
The trip has been an absolute blessing, but the journey to get here, not so much.
However, everything is worth it when you get to see your loved ones.
