Tuesday, January 6th began much earlier than I would like, but such is life. My flight from Nashville was rescheduled to 5:40 am. Having always been a rule abiding girl, I have always been at the airport two hours before for international flights. (I follow the one hour rule on domestic flights unless someone else is in charge. I remember a fateful Thanksgiving break when we left Tucson two hours before my flight LEFT Phoenix and hit traffic. I thought I might murder my middle brother. He lived to see another day. Mostly because I had friends and family praying-well the Smiths mostly, and we know their prayers are worth more! My flight was delayed over an hour, so I made it.)
So, I decided to get up at 3 and do something I never do before an early am flight. I took a shower. I usually let my night shower suffice. I knew myself too well this time. Even after a day of travels, I knew I wouldn't want to shower after putting all my junk away. I was right! I just wanted to get into bed. So I showered, rearranged things in my suitcases so I wouldn't be over the 50 lb. limit on either suitcase and so my extra-large toiletries would fit.
I decided there was no reason to be at the airport before 4:30 since there were very few flights that early and since Nashville security line has gotten much swifter. I do not like waiting at the gate alone (I get nervous about falling asleep and leaving my luggage "unattended" and also being left!).
My plan worked. Ashley (God love her) and I left at 4am in hopes of parking and checking in around 4:30. A solid hour before my flight. Check.
Since we had time and there was not a soul in the security line, Ashley and I sat down and waited until almost 5 for me to proceed. I did a lot better this time leaving than I did before. I just teared up instead of crying. I had played out my departure in my head and it had no tears. Same happened when I took AA&T to the airport. I figured I wouldn't cry because I had come to terms with the fact that they were leaving and would probably see all of them before I saw anyone else (love those RIDICULOUSLY long buses to Tucson), but alas, my vision failed me. I lost it as usual. I mean, I'll just always be a crier.
The flight to Atlanta is so fast. I always forget that.
I snoozed a tiny little bit, thanks mostly to the fact that the flight was nowhere near full and I had my row of two seats to myself.
In Atlanta, I had a few last minute calls to make. I had failed to return a phone call to Honey, so I did that. As soon as I was off the plane, I checked my gate. E6. Perfect.
I got on the train. I was in B, so had only a few stops before the last stop: E. Oddly enough, on this train is where I get the best cell phone service (I HATED my phone over the break. I lost service about every two minutes.). I talked to Honey while riding to E and then got off. Before lugging my stuff all over creation, I decided to check the gate info one more time. This time is said t08. The t was lower case, so I was confused. I decided to ask. The elderly gentleman pointed me to the escalators in the direction from which I had come, saying I should go up to concourse D and find D8. I thought that was weird, but that maybe lower case t was code for D.
Off I went. I got to D and there was no flight listed at gate 8. Hmmmm.
I asked the bored fellow at the desk of some airline I've never heard of where gate t08 would be. He told me I'd have to go all the way back past A to T. Ugh! Why me?! Why is it always me?!
I got to the train again and decided to check one more time. The same board that had told me t08 now said E6. I mentally cursed the Atlanta airport, and trudged on. I got to my gate, verified the flight, and prepared for my departure. At this point, I had been walking for 40 minutes. I was almost sweating (Atlanta keeps its airport nice and muggy), and definitely frustrated.
I had another window seat, so I slept quite a bit on this flight, too. The middle seat was unoccupied, and when I awoke, I saw that the flight attendant had left me immigration and customs forms for Mexican citizens. I wish I could say it was from hearing me speak. Ha! That would've told them for sure I was a gringa. Two weeks of English only has almost ruined me! I got the correct forms (including the Visa information that I didn't have to do the first go round) entered customs and immigration. It was quick and painless. My bags were checked to Culiacán, so I went on the Terminal 2 in DF. After a terrible experience in Atlanta, I was so relieved to see this airport. That struck me as really odd until I realized why. First and foremost, there is free internet in the DF airport. That's not true in most airports in the US now. You have to have some subscription to some service that I'm not about to pay for! Secondly, this airport is more familiar to me I think even than the Nashville airport. In Nashville, I'm always flying a different airline (and they seem to always be doing construction). I never know where I am, but I can figure it out pretty easily. In DF, I'm always coming from or going to Culiacán, so I'm always in Terminal 2. I have gotten very acquainted with this terminal. I know where the closest bathrooms, Starbucks, and the best shops are. I realized I had been here many times with my flight to and from Cozumel, to and from DF for orientation, and home in December. This trip made the sixth time to this airport within about 10 weeks. No wonder I felt so comfortable there. Good thing, too, because I had a three hour layover, and then was delayed!
Mabel had to teach on Tuesday afternoon, so I had emailed Yuri to see if her family could pick me up. They could, so I emailed her about the delay. It ended up being more like an hour instead of the ten minutes that they promised, but the important thing is that I arrived!
Yuri's mom and dad picked me up and dropped me off at "home." I got as much unpacked as I could and hit the sack. A 17-hour traveling day with 3 flights can wear a girl out!
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