Welcome to Miami...Bienvenidos a Miami (Will Smith)

If I didn't know any better, I would think I was on a Brandler family vacation with all the travel mishaps that have already gone down. I'm wondering if my next stop is Wally World.

We arrived at SeaTac in reasonable time, a remarkable feat for the Brandlers, especially when we had to get up at 4:30 am. I think Mom just didn't go to sleep and did a few more loads of laundry for kicks. Anyways, we arrived to the American Airlines ticket counter and my confirmation code wasn't accepted. "No biggie," I thought. One of the pleasant attendants will take care of this. Oh, little naive one. I handed the rejection slip that the self-service think spat at me to the attendant and asked if she could check out what was going on. She looks up my flight status and says curtly without a beat, "Your connecting flight to Dallas has been canceled" as if I should come to the airport fully assuming that such an event is normal, especially when traveling internationally. Maybe she knew the Brandlers' travel track record and decided to start the painful process early. I was a little peeved since I checked last night and requested a long time ago to get text notifications if my flight status changed, but American didn't send those to me until like half an hour before my flight would have left, which obviously would have been the ideal time to receive such a notice. Also, I had checked several times online about their baggage policy and was looking forward to it being free. You could imagine my dismay at the deceptively friendly-looking sign indicating a $15 charge for the first bag and a $25 charge for the second.

Then I made the mistake of asking why my flight got canceled. I think those airline ticket people assume normal human beings keep track of the weather throughout the country because she scowls at me and snaps, "There have been 80,000 thunderstorms within the past 12 hours in Dallas! Nobody is going in or out of there. Go to the full service line to reschedule your flight." I look to my right to see the venomous serpent that was the full service line and quickly realized I probably would not be getting to Guatemala anytime soon. After waiting through the line, a slightly less abrasive attendant told me the situation and starting trying to figure out ways of getting me to Guatemala. She was mainl telling me options for leaving the next day, which I really wanted to avoid. She releases an annoyed sigh and begins to figure out was of getting me there today. After a few false hopes, she finds one from Seattle to Washington DC to Miami to Guatemala City, which would probably get me to my final destination circa the year 2012. Finally, she got a flight to Miami which would arrive 10 pm Miami time but would not leave until 11:50 am the next day. Not seeing any other options, I took her offer and began to say goodbe to my parents. (I say began becasue the Brandler regime of saying goodbye involves a strict procedure consisting of at least three hugs and a minimum of five look backs to wave, a dance or two for show, and throwing the okay sign).

Because my flight to Miami didn't leave for at least 5 hours, I couldn't check my bags yet and since my dad had to get to a meeting with the pastor, I sat there alone with only my 100 pound collective pile of crap to keep me company. My parents looked back several times (I told you), and my dad took pity on me and my lowly estate and canceled the appointment to take me out to breakfast.

During breakfast, I was mentally preparing for a 13 hour adventure with all my gear in Miami airport and was wondering what I would be doing with all that time. I definitely penciled in at least an hour block in my busy schedule to call American Airlines and complain about their abysmal customer service. Luckily for them, we thought of having me stay at a hotel and got booked at Days Inn.

The flight was fine and I was in the exit row with more leg room, but the man next to me for some reason incessantly needed to get up, even when I was dozing off thanks to my four hours of sleep I had acquired the night before. Maybe he was trying to avoid deep vein thrombosis, I don't know.

I arrived in Miami that night and quickly figure out that Spanish was the primary language of Miamians. I got a shuttle and arrived at my flea bag hotel accompanied by a haggard 50 year old bartender woman who was kind of a Debbie Downer about everything. (Writing this post I'm wondering if I should become a sociologist instead of a doctor).

After checking in to my hotel and peering around at my seedy surroundings, I asked the clerk where I could go to eat. He told me there was a Subway, McDonald's, and IHOP up ahead the road, but that the breakfast at the hotel was terrible and I should go somewhere else. If an employee tells you it's bad, you KNOW those will be some of the sketchiest scrambled eggs ever.

I dropped my stuff at the room and made the foolish decision of going down the block to get some food. Obviously, walking alone along the non-lit street at 11 at night in a seedy area in Miami was probably one of the poorer safety decisions I've made in my life. Neither of the places were open and so I ran back to the hotel in fear that I was going to get shanked in the lower back at any moment. A few stray cats were back at the hotel to greet me with their soulless beady eyes and I quickly went to my room and locked the doors in every manner possible.

After ordering pizza and swatting at the legion of flies that were swarming around me (probably putting my anti-malaria medication to the test), I checked out the four channels that came in, updating myself on the latest tirade about Letterman's comments about Sarah Palin. I finally fell asleep and awoke the next morning to rejoin my haggard bartender friend on the shuttle. Now I am waiting for my flight.

This whole time I have been trying to get a hold of Tito or someone down in Guatemala through email etc. and have heard no response. I'm assuming that he knows something is up since I didn't arrive when I was supposed to, but then again, you never know with the typical Guatemalan casual approach to everything. I'm just praying that I don't show up in the Guatemalan airport with only the emaciated stray dogs to greet me. But you all know my impeccable street smarts and travel savvy... :/ Let's just hope this isn't my last post if you know what I mean.

Verse of the Day:

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of [Miami],
I will fear no evil, for you are with me." ---Psalms 23:4