The airport ecosystem
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My cousin drove me to the Tampa airport, and left me at the entrance leading to customs check. Before that, when I checked in my bags, I had to pay 40 dollars for the two bags at the Continental desk. Had I not evened both out so that the larger one wasn't over 50 pounds, I would have paid 90. I went through customs, and approached my gate. I took a seat: I had around an hour of time before it was time to board. Or so I thought.

As it turned out, the flight was delayed. The 17:15 flight was now 19:50. What that meant was that I would arrive in the Miami airport at 20:50 or later. Not a good thing for someone who had a Miami-Santiago flight expecting departure at 21:20.

Continental offered me no solution. I called Lan from a payphone and they said I would not be able to catch that flight. Of course. I was told that there was another flight at 23:20. Ah, that's better. But I would have to pay for the ticket change, surely I would. The thing is, the Continental flight was completely separate from the second flight I was to take with Lan, as the latter was given to me as a present, and I had to buy the Tampa-Miami flight in the US. What that means is that Lan would charge me for the change, and for Continental to accept any responsibility it would be quite difficult, and I had no time to struggle if I wanted to catch that later flight. In my wallet there was a bit over a hundred dollars, which is what they usually charge for a schedule change, so I was okay with that, I would just have to fuss a bit with Continental at a later time.

So I took advantage of the free wi-fi at the Tampa airport and went online. I sent an e-mail to my dad, who was going to pick me up the next day, to tell him that I would likely not make it into the flight, but that I would try to take the next one, and let him know how that went later. I also notified my mom, so she would not worry for my not getting home when I was supposed to. And then just wasted time online, until it was nearing time for departure. I turned my computer off and went to see the status of my flight.

Delayed again. 20:25. I would arrive at around 21:25 if things went well. I went online again, let my dad know that I would certainly not make it for my scheduled flight. After that, the plane took a very long time to get in front of the gate. We took off almost at 21:00, and arrived around 3 hours and a half past the originally scheduled time of arrival.

It took me about twenty minutes to find the conveyor belt for my flight's bags. Next, I went to the Lan counter to change my ticket to the next flight, for which I had to walk a long stretch, carrying around 90 pounds, since the third floor walkways were closed for that section of the airport. When I finally reached the counter, I explained my situation to the woman behind it, to which she replied that I had to go to the American Airlines desk, because they were handling the flight. She also added that I'd have to run to get there in time. The distance I had to travel was not the kind of distance you want to, or can, run through with that amount of bags, so I basically made my way there in an awkward walk, as fast as I could.

Guess what happened when I got there, sweating through all pores. No can do, too late for checking in my bags. I pleaded: I had no money to get a room, barely any money for food--I couldn't afford to stay stranded there any longer. The guy, who was severe but was nice, did go out of his way to try to get me in, but it just wasn't possible. "Go back to the Lan desk," he said, so they could tell me what I could do. Oh, yes, I walked all the way back there, feeling hopeless all the way.

I was told there that there was one flight with a stop in Lima which I could have taken, but it was late already for that one, once again. The next best bet would be at 7 am. As I was speaking to these people it was around 11:15. They sent me to the sales office to see what they could do, which was, luckily, right downstairs from them, and there was an elevator nearby.

The lady who I talked to there was sympathetic of my situation, but helpless. The 14-hour flight that would depart at 7 am (it made two stops before arriving in Santiago) not only was inconvenient, but also closed. As she checked some more, she urged me to see the Continental counter down the hallway, as I had already told her all about my story. There I went, and the lady who I spoke with claimed that she could not do anything. I don't like fighting with employees, so it was good that she was understanding of my dreary situation, even though she could not give me a solution (again, due to the fact that my two flights were not connected), so she advised me to hold on to the ticket for my schedule change, so that I could see them again and maybe get a refund. Never a refund for the stress or the time, of course. I also got a voucher for an 8 dollar meal.

I went back to the Lan offices, and the only possible solution I got was the slight possibility of getting an opening for the 7 am flight, for which I was to approach the same offices, as they reopened at around 3:30 am. If not, I'd have to get a seat in the next flight, that day's night: that is, around 16 hours from then. And I was there with no money for anything more than rescheduling my flight. I went back to the Continental offices, told them that I had no ticket to get any refunds yet. They wished me luck.

After that, since I had to wait till 3:30, I went looking for a way to get Internet access and update my father. I asked a clerk that was closing up her little shop, and I followed her directions. In my way there, I asked a security person again, who pointed me to the airport hotel lobby after shouting to an elderly couple who had asked him for directions and were going the wrong way. I made my way to the lobby, which looked very much like one, with some nice couches, and talked to a lady behind the reception counter. From my previous visit to the airport, I already knew that there was no free internet available for visitors, so I asked her what I was supposed to do. I had to use a credit card, which I had not. No other way.

I still pulled out my laptop, sat on one of the comfy couches, on which some people slept, and tried to find some available hotspot. You could indeed connect to the airport's wi-fi, but you'd only be able to browse their own website (after a splash page with an ad), which was mostly different sorts of advertisements, and the possibility to buy some online time, provided one owned one of the required plastic cards. Just left an awful taste of commercialism in my mouth.

Since there was no internet I could take advantage of, I went looking for a payphone. Found one, pulled out my sketchbook and opened the page with my aunt's house's phone number. I was taking out quarters out of my backpack and reading the phone's instructions when a lady called for my attention, behind me. She was a flight attendant for American Airlines, as I would notice later, stretching out her hand with a cellphone. "Please use my cellphone, I know how confusing payphones can be here." I have to admit that I was pretty surprised of such display of kindness. I asked her if she was sure, and took it. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere," she said with a sigh and sat on a nearby bench. I called my cousin, told her the essentials of what was going on, and asked her to contact my dad, trying not to take too long on the call. I handed the phone back to its owner, thanked her profusely, and explained the situation to her. She was indeed familiar with the waits, and recommended the third floor as a quiet place where I could sleep. That place where the connecting walkways are, which were in part closed at that time. More than the phone, I believe that this was the biggest way in which she helped me.

I went to the third floor, not really expecting to sleep (since I had no alarm clock). As I walked there with all my stuff, I felt the tension well up in my throat. I found a discreet corner, sat down on the floor, and cried for a few minutes. No one was around. I let all that stress from the past several hours go. By the time I was done, I felt much more relaxed. I took my computer out of my backpack, found a wall outlet to connect it to, and started watching a movie to pass the time. I watched the animated Mind Game. As I did this, the ocassional security guard would pass on a segway, and one guy was going around sweeping litter off the floor. When I was done with the movie I decided to record my experience, and started writing what you are now reading.



I knew that already from my previous encounter with that dreaded airport