"An hour is more than enough time to check in at the local airport, it's very small" he said, handing us the tickets. "I need an exact address so the bus knows where to pick you up." We agreed on a small restaurant and he told us to be there by 4:30pm. I liked his math. Our flight was at 8:10pm and the airport was 60 miles north of San Pedro in a small city named Calama. We'd arrive around 5:30 and have plenty of time to check in, eat dinner and board the flight to Santiago. We got to the restaurant early, sat at a small table near the road, ordered a drink and waited. Buses of all sizes and shapes slowed near the restaurant but didn't stop. At 4:30 Dodo went outside and looked up and down the street. At 4:45 I decided to wait outside under the shade of a tree. At 5:00pm I tried to call the bus company but got no answer. Fifteen minutes later a taxi driver came by, rolled down his window "Aeropuerto?' Yes, how much? I asked. The amount was so high I waved him off in disgust. We discussed our options: stay and pray, walk to the tour operator, try to find another van. I suggested that I'd stay and wait while Dodo went to the van operator's office. "But I don't speak Spanish, what do I say?"
At 5:30 we saw a bus coming towards us. Dodo ran into the street and stood in front of it until it stopped. She spoke to the bus driver and waved me over. Finally, they decide to show up, I thought to myself. The driver got out to help us with our luggage. He looked like a sheepdog, a row of curly hair was hanging in his eyes. He was doughy and covered in dust. His tee shirt was too small and his pants too big - they hung off his hips. He didn't seem to realize or care that he was an hour late. There were ten other people on the bus already, Brazilians heading to Santiago, like us. One had managed to get the bus company on the line, she was complaining loudly in Spanish in earshot of the driver. "We're have a flight to Santiago a 8:10 with a connection to Sao Paolo and we're driving around in circles in San Pedro still." The bus driver announced that he only had three more people to pick up. He proceeded to drive around in circles for another 45 minutes getting those last three people. By the time we got on the road, it was 6:15pm. Still enough time, I told myself. I was looking out the window as we slowly climbed uphill into the desert. A cyclist passed us.
One of the passengers got up to talk to the bus driver. "Is there something wrong with the bus?" His Chilean accent was strong, I had a hard time following. "I mean, why are we going 15 kilometers per hour? I have a connecting flight, we're not going to make it at this speed." The sheepdog shrugged and held up his arms. "I have it floored, I'm doing my best." The passenger went back to his seat and started dialing his phone. "Hello, yes, I am on the 5pm bus to Calama, we are 2 hours late and the bus is only going 15 kilometers per hour. I'm not interested.... No, listen I am not interested in your apology, I want solutions. I'm a lawyer and I can tell you if we don't make it on time I will file 15 separate lawsuits, one for each passenger on this bus.... Hello? Yes, that's right." Dodo looked at me, waiting for the translation. I held up my hand, turned it into a puppet and opened and closed my fingers against my thumb - the international motion for "blah, blah."
I was already thinking ahead. I checked my phone for hotels in Calama. I was sure we'd be spending the night there and if we were lucky, we'd get out on a early flight the next morning. The lawyer's phone rang and he began all over again, threatening lawsuits, telling them they better come up with a solution. Our only hope was our flight being delayed. Once we got on top of the mountains and descended down the other side, we picked up speed. Not enough though - I calculated we'd get to the airport at 7:45, only 25 minutes ahead of our flight time. After half an hour the bus became quiet, surely everyone had given up. The lawyer's phone rang. "Yes, all of us are on that flight." He started asking everyone's name. "Val-tone?" "Val-tone?" I looked over at him in shock, he knew my name and was asking for my passport. He read the number into the phone. He did the same for each passenger.
His threats had worked. Apparently, the bus company called the airline and got them to waive the usual check in time cut-offs. When we arrived at the airport at 7:45 an airline rep was waiting for us. She told us to go into the airport, where we checked in, gave over our luggage and headed up to the gate. There was a long line and we joined the back of it. The bus passengers were all smiles. We boarded and took off on time - a miracle. I looked to the back of the plane and saw the lawyer, sitting in a middle seat with his sunglasses on. When the drink service came by, I bought a beer and wrote a note. I asked the stewardess a favor. "Can you please give this beer to the lawyer in 22b?"
No comments:
Post a Comment