We are up early for our flight to Mexico City. Remember, Mexico City is not our destination, only a place where we must change planes on our way to Oaxaca. Except, there’s only one hour to make our connection. I never should have accepted this option in Houston, but I was exhausted and desperate to get to Oaxaca as soon as possible.
In that hour, between our Continental flight and our Mexicana flight, we were expected to change terminals in a huge airport and go through immigration. Because I’ve been given no direction by the airline, I assume we are also expected to pull our bags and go through Customs. Only when we don’t find our bags do I discover they’ve been checked though to Oaxaca. One lucky break.
Now we have to race to find our gate. Our flight appears nowhere on the Departure schedule. I have to ask Information (after waiting for a very long-winded lady to end her conversation.) I’m told I have to go by train to another terminal, the Domestic terminal. But to get to that train, we have to walk the whole length of this terminal, the International terminal. Once at the Domestic terminal, I still can’t find our flight # on the board. Then, briefly, it flashes on and immediately disappears again. We are cutting it very close.
We’re directed to the Mexicana ticket counter. “You can’t catch this plane,” I’m told. “It’s impossible.” What! “There’s another flight to Oaxaca in 2 ½ hours,” I’m told.
Because it’s on another airline from the one we’d purchased from originally, we have to buy the tickets. Either that, or go back to the International terminal and fight with Continental. I’m pretty certain there are no other Continental flights available for two days. That was the impression I got in Houston. We buy the Mexicana tickets and wait. Then, the flight is delayed by an hour.
Twenty-six hours after our intended arrival, we land in Oaxaca City.
The humidity tries my thinned patience.
Next – going to the ranch.
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