So here I am, sitting in the Puerto Rican airport. My
fellow traveler friends are quite few but it is comforting to have some people nearby. I was in
somewhat of a state of panic when I got off the place this evening. Getting off
the place safely, check. Picking up my baggage, check. Figuring out where to go for connecting
flights…not so much a check. I wandered around like an idiot for a while, only
seeing other baggage claim machines. Found a couple signs that told me in
Spanish that I could meet people outside of the doors. Convenient if I were
meeting people here. How do I find the area for American Airlines? Oh sheesh,
I’ll just ask someone. So, I asked the next airport crew member if he speaks
English. He said yes! Success! I then asked how to get to American Airlines. He
chuckled and said something about “you will get lost…you have to go outside.”
WHAT!? Blah. Okay, so then he walks me over to the window. He explains (in
broken English) that I need to follow the windows, go to the end of the
building. Then there will be stairs to take me to the other part of the
airport. Great. I’ll carry my 52 pound bag up the stairs.
So I did. It was hot.
Creepy men were driving by staring at me and speaking to me in Spanish. I was kind of the only one walking around
at 11pm outside of San Juan’s airport. I spied a local bar/restaurant
across the street. I thought about going over there for maybe a total of three
seconds. You all will be pleased to know that the reason I immediately
dismissed the idea was due to the fact that I would have to take my luggage in. Any way, I carried my luggage up the stairs in the muggy nasty heat.
I walked up to the closest door of the airport, hoping it would be unlocked so I wouldn’t walk
straight into the door or be locked outside all night. Thank God, it opened up
for me. I walked in to find a semi-destroyed ticket area, a gigantic puddle of
(what I hope was) water, and a couple homeless-looking folk. One reeked of
booze and the other seemed to be on some type of drugs. Looking back, I am sad for their
hearts, I really am. But in that moment, I was more scared than concerned for
their current emotional sanity. I’m sorry for it, but I was. I kinda freaking
out a little. I noticed that I received a couple of junk/spam emails once I got
off the plane. I noticed that my phone appeared to have signal with no roaming,
it still was even in Sprint network. I shot Tricia a text something like “hey,
if you get this, check sprint’s website out and see if I can texty” so she did.
And saw that I could. Perfect. I told her of my troubles and she rescued me.
She sent me to concourse D where I would eventually be able to check my bags
sometime in the morning. I walked down here and immediately felt better. A wave
of relief had washed over and now I felt good enough about my safety to feel
bad for the sketchy characters that I saw earlier. I’m embarrassed by how
incredibly indecent that sounds, but I’m telling the truth. I wish my heart was
different about it, but it wasn’t.
Back to current scene: flashing colored lights. I’m thankful that I don’t have epilepsy.
Green, blue, purple, red, pink, orange, then green…all within a matter of maybe
a second. Maybe less. They’re moving really quickly. My mom called, so I talked to her for a few minutes. And
now here I am writing about my experience thus far. I’d say I was definitely
scared of this part of the trip. When I arrived, my fears were staring me in
the face. But hey, I made it and I feel safe enough to remove my backpack from
my lap and death grip to set it on the floor next to my feet in order to type
this. Progress.
I’ve got approximately 10 hours until my flight leaves. I
plan to wake up (if I sleep at all) around 8 or 9am to get some breakfast and
then check my bag. I’m ready to be in Dominica with people I know and where
people speak English. I’m on the first plane out of here. Literally. It also
happens to be the only one.
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