Wednesday, April 16

This was to be (at least one of several) trip(s) of a lifetime, so I was extremely apprehensive about the tight schedule we had for catching the boat. In particular, if our flight from Newark, or Mom’s flight from Miami, didn’t reach Quito successfully – and reasonably on time, we would be severely out of luck. Both of these flights were scheduled to arrive in Quito at about 10:15 PM, and our flight out of Quito to the Galápagos would depart the following morning at 9:15 AM. And both of our flights were the very last flights from our origins that would reach Quito that day. Meanwhile, the source of all knowledge (the Internet) had revealed to me that within the previous week, each of these flights had failed at least once to successfully meet this schedule. And if we missed Thursday’s flight to the Galápagos, we would miss our boat entirely.

Thus, I began checking the Internet the night before to see if there were any early warning signals that our flight to Quito might not depart on time. Due to my many dealings with Continental Airlines over the past ten years, and information about departure and arrival gates on the Internet, I was able to figure out that the plane scheduled to arrive at our departure gate (Gate 122) about two hours before our departure time was arriving from Birmingham, England (CO 27). This plane, of course, would be the same one as left on Continental’s outbound flight from Newark to Birmingham the night before (CO 26). Thus, I began tracking this plane leaving Newark Tuesday night, and was please to see that it was schedule to be on time arriving in Birmingham. On Wednesday morning, I checked again that this flight was on time leaving Birmingham. Since it was listed as arriving in Newark slightly early, there should be no problem. Of course in addition to these direct inquiries, I also investigated the weather forecasts for Newark, Birmingham, Miami, Quito and Bogotá (where our plane would make an intermediate stop) to see if any trouble would be brewing from that source. Honestly, do you know anyone more anal?

Since I have less knowledge about American Airlines’ operations in Miami, I was unable to check on Mom’s flight other than to determine that it had a very light passenger load – thus was a possible candidate for cancellation. But I was able to reassure myself by determining that this plane’s return flight from Quito to Miami on Thursday did have a fairly heavy passenger load, so the outbound flight probably wouldn’t be cancelled. Beyond seeing that the plane was listed as leaving Miami on time, the only thing that I could still worry about was whether Mom’s limo trip to the Miami airport would arrive in good time given that it would have to negotiate the heavy Passover traffic of southeast Florida that she might expect on the way.

Back to Newark. We boarded our plane and lucked out with my strategy for booking two adjoining aisle/window seat combinations. I guess my frequent flyer status with Continental worked to forestall their assigning of the two middle seats. The plane pushed back on time at 3:15, but then sat on the taxiway waiting for Air Traffic Control clearance – which did not arrive until 3:50. But because we took off southbound, there was no wasted time in circling around; and due to favorable winds, we were soon making 550 mph. During the flight, a lower jaw tooth began to give me a dull ache, but no sharp pain. I attributed it to the altitude in the cabin and tried to forget about it – lots of luck.

Without much incident, we landed at our intermediate stop in Bogotá on time at about 7:45 PM local time. “Security” while on the ground seemed tight, but I am not sure exactly what it is intended to protect against or to accomplish. Agents came on the plane to check every continuing passenger’s name, passport and luggage, including searches under the seats. No one other than terminating passengers were allowed to deplane. While this was a bit disconcerting because I had never before been to Columbia, the official rules of counting the number of countries you have been to give you credit for the country so long as the wheels of the plane have touched its earth.

It was during this stop that a disconcerting incident occurred. An older woman (let’s say 60) boarded the plane with a very small rolling carryon bag. Because she was in the bulkhead row, she couldn’t store it under the seat in front of her. And because she was only about 4’10” tall, when she tried to lift the bag into the overhead, she was a bit too short to push it home. She then asked the flight attendant for some assistance, and his snotty reply was that flight attendants didn’t provide “porter” service, and the only thing that they would be willing to do for her is to check her bag into the luggage hold, not lift it into the overhead. I found this incredible because the bag was not large or heavy, and space was available. It was only that she was too short. Happily, a passenger immediately arose and stowed it for her – but she was near tears from this insulting experience – which thankfully is fairly atypical of most air crews. I note that all of the Columbians leaving and boarding the plane seemed very good-looking.

We left Bogotá on time and arrived in Quito ten minutes early. Despite the full (Paschal/Passover) moon, there was very little to see out the window because of the overcast blackness. It was a bit disconcerting that when the Airshow display in the cabin noted that we were less than 15 miles from the airport, and the plane was still at 20,000 feet. But since the Quito airport is at 9500 feet, the descent is not as far as you might expect – and because Quito is in a valley surrounded by the Andes, you don’t want to approach the airport at too low an altitude. But we landed without incident, and as we pulled into our gate location (or staircase location because the Quito airport is still completing its renovation and doesn’t yet have jetways), I could see that Mom’s American Airlines plane had already landed (good!) – and as we walked into the terminal, we could see her waving at us from the window.

As in other third world countries, tourist baggage handling is considered to be a very desirable high-paying job – that must be parceled out among the maximum number of people. Thus, we were presented with a daisy chain of baggage carriers. One to take the bags from the claim belt to the customs wicket (about 50 feet), another to shepherd them from the customs wicket to the curb (another 50 feet), another to take them from the curb to our hotel van (about 100 feet), and another to help load them into the van. Of course each of these assistants wants a tip, and due to their experience with tourists, $1 for each 50 foot leg is sneered at. So you give them $2, and all of this all adds up to some serious change. At least we came supplied with a lot of singles (Ecuador now uses the U.S. dollar as its currency). We have 100 $1 bills and 20 $5 bills, not to mention a goodly number of $10, $20, $50 and $100 bills. This is because certain expenses must be paid in cash. Credit cards are not universally accepted, and when they are, there may be a substantial (e.g., 6% surcharge). Although we were together carrying over $1500 in cash, this turned out still to be not enough. You would be surprised by how much 150 U.S. banknotes weigh – not to mention the conspicuous “rob me” bulge they put in your pocket.

It was just a short drive to the Sheraton Four Points hotel (the closest major hotel to the airport), but then there was a very lengthy check-in procedure. But the good news was that due to my presenting them with my Starwood card (I carry them all), we were upgraded to a Junior Suite. We were all exhausted. After negotiating with Eric to stay in Mom’s room, we collapsed into bed. But we couldn’t sleep. While I dozed from midnight until 3 AM, after that it was just a series of 20 minute catnaps until 6 AM. Both Barbara and Mom experienced the same restlessness. We decided that in addition to the tension of knowing that we must get up early in the morning, it must also be due to the altitude.