I will happily tell of my Mexican vacation after this post. But first, I will tell of the nightmare of a time I had getting home. Becky and I stayed at the southern tip of the Hotel Zone in Cancun on our last night at The Westin - a 4 star resort. We had an ocean view room, feather pillows, and an inredibly white and soft bed. Understandably, it was hard to tear myself away from lying and listening to the crashing waves below and get ready to catch my flight. I had planned on taking the bus to the airport since that is typically the cheapest option. Unfortunately, all of the buses turn around right outside our hotel and head back up north along the hotel zone. The airport however, is located 10 km west of the Westin. Both a city bus driver and hotel employees had informed me that buses do not run to the airport, but I refused to believe it. Turns out, I could in fact take the bus but it would involve taking the bus about 15 km north, then about 5 km west, and then about 20 km south again, basically making an incomplete 3-sided skinny rectangle on the map. This would take, at best, 2 hours. I did not have that sort of time and was therefore obligated to pay the set rate of 270 pesos for a 10 km ride to the airport - or about 6 miles for $22 USD. Annoyed, I walked outside and got in a taxi, already grumpy from skipping breakfast because I refused to pay $7 for a bowl of cereal at the resort.
I arrived at the airport and was pleased to find a relatively short line at the check-in counter. I then proceded to wait for almost an hour as they consistently helped the other 2 lines of "preferred passengers" instead of the ever-growing long line of apparently un-preferred passengers. When I checked in they asked me if I had my immigration form from when I arrived in Mexico. I did not. They sent me to the immigration office. I entered the room, closed the door, and told the man at the desk that I did not have my immigration form and asked what I need to do about that. He asked if I was sure about that because there would be a fine of 525 pesos to give me a new one. My mind flashed back to a couple of days before when I had thrown away a bunch of paper that tends to accumulate when you travel - boarding passes, brochures, maps, etc. and I recalled very clearly looking at that immigration paper, checking to make sure my social and/or passport number wasn't on it, and seeing that it was only my name and b-day I tore it in 3 pieces and dumped it in the trashcan. I told the man I was positive that I did not have that form. Not wanting to pay $43 USD to leave Mexico, I told him it was just a piece of paper and asked if there was anything I could do. He said no, and told me that they would either ask for that form there in Cancun or in Mexico City before I boarded my connection to San Antonio. He then kindly directed me to an ATM outside the door. Unhappily, I stomped over to the ATM (okay, maybe I was only stomping in my heart, I probably just walked dejectedly) and withdrew the money. I paid the guy 525 pesos in cash, took the newly signed form and went on my grumpy and hungry way through security wanting to cry about the cash I'd just forked over first to the taxi and now to an immigration official for a form that nobody told me I needed to keep.
My luck wasn't all bad though. On the flight from Cancun to Mexico City, someone had either a bottle of beer that shattered or a can that exploded in the overhead compartment above me. I was awakened from my slumber as a result of a commotion directly in front of me. It smelled like beer and I noticed that the guy in front of me had something spilled all over his face and clothes. The exploded beer from above had leaked out onto the passenger in front of me and missed me and my stuff by about 6 inches. I felt bad for the guy that was now sticky and smelling of beer but sent up a silent thank-you that it wasn't me.
In Mexico City I was hungry and had 100 pesos left. I wanted food and had about 15 minutes to find some before I boarded my next flight. However, all I could find was perfume, watches, and tequila. As my stomach became increasingly angry at me for not paying the $7 and eating cereal this morning, I finally found a lone food venue. I examined the menu, calculating how to get the most bang for my buck. I finally decided that I would get the most food by buying a hot dog and french fries. I ate them happily, using my ketchup sparingly as they were very stingy with handing it out and then boarded my flight to San Antonio.
I landed in San Antonio, went through customs and was picked up by my mother. Not one person had asked me for that immigration form. And to add to my irritation, upon examination, the back of the form states clearly, "this document and its issuance are free". Looks like I was tricked into contributing $43 to Mexico's fiscal budget for 2010. Or maybe the immigration guy pocketed the cash. Who really knows.
