Girl Interrupted
It is a pretty common refrain that every year we get set to leave we never feel ready to go. This year we realize just how bush league those complaints really were. If there was ever a time to consider cancelling a trip this is it. Sam has brought the plague into our house, we just wrapped up a shotgun office move (mostly in the rain), and we’re trying to do more work with less people than we have in a very long time. That said, if there ever was a time we needed a vacation, this is also it.
Costa Rica has been on our list for quite a while now. It seems like one of those places everyone has been to and raves about but that we always just skipped over when putting together our plans. Recently however, there have been some cracks in my fellow adventurer’s resistance to living outside of the US at some point down the road, so this feels like an ideal time to try and fan those flames. So, off we go.
We’re flying Southwest for the first time in long time. There was a day when I avoided them at all costs, but as every other domestic airline has made the experience of flying progressively more miserable, Southwest has gotten better simply by not getting any worse. It is still a cattle car experience, but my knees are jammed into the seat in front of me, there’s live TV, and I don’t have to pay extra for the privilege of carrying my own bag.
The route is through Kansas City, then changing planes in Houston on the way to San Jose. If all goes well, we’ll arrive roughly 10 hours after we set out which, after 24 hour journeys to places like SE Asia, should be a walk in the park.
Of course, things don’t always go well. About 40 minutes out of Kansas City, the flight crew let’s us know the plane will no be carrying on to Houston. Thunderstorms, apparently. Instead we have been rebooked to Ft. Lauderdale, where we will need to overnight before catching a morning flight to Costa Rica. The airline is good enough to put us up in a hotel even though they technically didn’t have to. It doesn’t make up for the delay in our vacation, but it is a little less lemon juice in the wound.
Dinner is at Wendy’s in the hotel parking lot. Yummmmm.