Panama Drama

The first flight from San Andres was pretty normal, until it suddenly became the first time I had ever heard thunder from inside an airplane, and the pilot swerved upward, gunned the engines, and swept us up and out of the storm that was covering Panama City Airport. After that, it was anything but routine! As soon as we had stabilized, there was an announcement that visibility was very low and that “the landing system for that broke during our approach.” I’m still not sure if that’s really the case or if he just didn’t want to freak people out about the thunder and lightning storm we had just evaded. Either way, we made several circles and figure eights, waiting “for conditions to improve”. Meanwhile, a mystery drop of cold water landed on my arm.

We got to see all kinds of fascinating cloud formations during our wait, and during part of the loop, while we were over water, I saw an island shaped like a turtle. We did another loop over open ocean. We chewed our gum until it lost its flavor, and then chewed it some more. I saw another plane below us fly into the clouds, as if to make a landing. There weren’t any crashes reported, but I’d bet that plane pulled up and out too, rather than landing, since just a minute later we received the announcement that our airport, Tocumen, was closed due to extreme weather, and we’d be landing at Pasadeco instead. Another mystery drop of water landed on my arm. We made another half-circle, and I saw a little isolated mountain island. The landing gear creaked down, the clouds misted around us. We passed over a strange island full of silos, and the mystery water drops continued to fall on me. Thank you, rainy Panama… A flock of white birds flew under us, just above the green treetops. Green. We were above land. …and … DOWN. The cabin broke into applause as the plane whistled to a shaky stop on the strange runway. We ended up parked near a warehouse-ish building, and the rain over my seat became hail: tiny balls of ice pinged off my clothes. The pilot announced that we’d be waiting until someone figured out what to do with a planeful of displaced travelers. After the other passengers had finished their initial rummage through stowed baggage, I pulled down my duffel bag to get out a jacket. Hail is cold!

We waited. We shifted in our seats, we joked about how much we love international travel. I finally thought to get out my computer, and it was just barely booted up when the pilot announced that our original airport was open again, and we’d be flying back there in just a few minutes. I shut down the computer and got out a fresh piece of gum.  Four men in bright see-me gear watched from the tarmac as we waited. I waved at them, but they either missed or ignored it. One of them walked away, and then we taxied back to the runway.

Lift-off! Immediately after take-off, we passed two lonesome skyscrapers – close enough to see each other, but too far to be neighbors. We flew toward a rainbow that reflected in the sea. The rainbow fled, and we chased it toward Panama City, on the other side of the grand canal, until it spread out, out, and down to bathe that piece of the Pacific in a prism of color. We approached Tocumen through wisps of cloud, chewing our gum concertedly, with more than a few people gripping their armrests. My personal hail turned back into rain as we passed over the waves, and above land. After a joke of a smaller canal, we passed over a solo porta potty in a field of mud. Closer. I could see the landing field. Closer. …and …DOWN!

We raced from the plane to our connecting flights. I think most of us made it, since everything at Tocumen had been delayed during the shutdown. The gate for our Houston leg of the trip was surrounded by security, and Lesley and I raced to get to the end of a very long line. When we saw that it was another bag search, we took turns moving our bags along and going to the restroom. When my turn came, the security checker grabbed my empty water bottle. I pointed out that it was empty. She said “No” and threw it in the trash. Next, she scrutinized the SteriPen I had borrowed to sanitize water on the trip. She obviously didn’t know what it was. I tried, in my limited Spanish, to explain that this little electronic thing made water clean, probably a little overly intensely, as I desperately wanted to return it to its owner, but she looked at me like I was a crazy person, and set the pen aside. After she had gone through the rest of my bags (including stinky beach clothes – so there!) she picked up the pen again. She looked at it, glanced down the row of checkers to her supervisor, who was busy with another passenger, looked at the line of people still to come, and stuffed the pen back into my bag quickly, as if to rush so she wouldn’t change her mind. Whew! Then it was another wait, inside the silly security around the gate, leaving a hundred or so delayed passengers with no access to water or food. I pointed out that a little snack and coffee cart on the side of the security barricade would make a killing. Finally, I thought to get out my computer. As soon as it was booted up, gate staff began calling us to board. I’m beginning to sense a trend here.  After some silliness with my boarding pass missing a “group number” even though it had the flight number and seat number, I was finally able to board, stow my bag, relax, and make a new friend, since my seat-mate turned out to be pretty awesome. There was some pretty severe turbulence along the way, so much that I wasn’t the only one on the plane to raise my arms up and whoop like we were on an amusement park ride. I hope that helped some people be less nervous about the bumps. At one point, I made another barf bag puppet, as is traditional on long flights. As we crossed over onto land above Texas, I responded to a dare by shouting “Murica!” And we landed in Houston.

Last time I flew through Houston, I was held up in customs because apparently I’ve lost some weight in my face since my passport photo was taken. That connection was horrible, since I had way too short of a layover anyway, and I couldn’t go to the bathroom while I was in the little questioning room behind the customs desks. So I had ended up sprinting through the airport while doing a potty dance… This time, I was prepared, with 3 different photo IDs, all from different weight stages and with different expressions. The customs worker glanced at my passport, said, “you lose some weight?” I told her I had. She said, “Lookin’ good, girl!” and waved me through. If you have it, you don’t need it, right? Lesley just barely made it to her connecting flight, but most of the other passengers got free hotel stays, since they’d have to wait until morning to fly out. I had an overnight layover scheduled, so I didn’t get a free hotel. Darn it! So I tried to auto check-in for my morning flight. The machines said I was too early to check in, so I asked an employee. She told me it’d be “just a minute” and wandered away. I started making phone calls. Taryn, a friend from a previous World Vets trip to Romania, was flying in to Houston the same night, and driving home from there. We decided to meet up and go out to the Waffle House before sharing a motel for the night. By the way, I learned that I LOVE Waffle House! We found a very cheap hotel only a few minutes away, and it turned out to be pretty classy for the price: a nice brick building, and our room had a fridge, microwave, and cute little sofa in it. The part I was the most excited about was the king size bed. And Taryn’s little dog that she’d smuggled in. He was quite the cuddler, and we were all asleep within minutes. I had set two alarms, just in case I fell asleep again after the first one (I do that, especially when I only have a few hours to sleep). Not today though. The alarm went off and I remembered that I was mere steps away from a hot shower. Twenty minutes of utter bliss ensued. I don’t think I ended up smelling much better, because I had to put back on the same dirty clothes, but oh, it was lovely. The hotel even had little complimentary toothbrushes, which was awesome, since I’d left my grubby old one in San Andres (in the garbage. I planned it that way). So after a quick re-pack, Taryn took me back to the airport, where I tried to check in again. The machine still said it was too early – just two hours and three minutes before takeoff. I tried again. I called an attendant to help me. I gave her my passport, my itinerary, my confirmation number, and my driver’s license, just in case. She clicked away on her keyboard for a minute, said oooh, in that tone that just makes me freak out and wonder what on earth could be wrong. She said “your flight is booked for tomorrow.” Full stop. I told her no, I pointed to the printed itinerary, with the confirmation number that said it was today. I told her I have to get to work, and to a friend’s house to pet-sit, and that I had a three hour ride home that I would miss if I was a day late. I nearly had a panic attack. She clicked away and magically found me a seat on an already full flight for this morning. The one my itinerary said I should be on. So I got to check in and run to my gate, which happened to be at the opposite end of the airport. I’ll admit, I speed-walked part of the way, instead of a full run. Security searched my bag again, because the three times it had already been searched and tagged weren’t good enough. I went through the human body scanner, and got pulled aside for a pat-down, since I have extra zippers on my pants pockets. Then I ran some more. Just before my gate, the Starbucks logo shone out like the lighted sign that it was. I stopped. Hell with making the flight, I’m exhausted. I’m thirsty. I’m working on a headache, and I’m just not going to last all the way back to Seattle without some sort of sustenance, plus I’ve been drinking instant Nescafe all week. I racewalked with my coffee, down the moving walkway, which was longer than it looked, and took me past my gate. I racewalked back, and finally reunited with Stacy, Sandy, and Dee, who had been on a later flight from San Andres. They’d been lounging about the airport for a while, and were ready to get going. So I pulled out my computer, and the curse held. As soon as I had it set up, they called us to board the plane. I ended up gate-checking my duffel bag, which is awesome because that’s the only way to check a bag for free, and the plane took off without further incident.