We meet in the lobby, the lonely remainders of the last week’s crowd that just a few days ago was filling the hotel’s lobby and restaurants with bits and pieces of words spoken in an assortment of languages, the whole creating a busy, yet pleasing acoustic international mosaic. We check out, pay for another unwanted night and hope that this will be the last one. We walk into the darkness outside and wish for the vans to arrive soon to improve our chances of getting on a plane out of here. Finally the vans are here and there is a shuffle for everybody to get into the correct van based on destination country and airline used. We set out and as we are passing through nigh-time Playa, I say good-bye and my thoughts go out to those who lost everything in the storm but have nowhere to go as they call this place their home.
A Slowed Return...
Somewhere on the way between Playa and Cancun, there is another reshuffling of the passengers of different vans as plans change. We manage to keep our luggage with us and are cheered by the news which suggests that we can go directly to the airport without having to wait in the line at the downtown office in Cancun. We do not yet know that the road is blocked off a few miles from the airport and a huge line several people thick has formed for an additional mile or so back from the barricade. We are dropped off in the darkness; we grab our luggage and join the end of the line - just a little drop in the ocean. Then we wait.
We watch as the black of the night is gradually diluted to gray, then the gray turns a milky shade and a ribbon of pink appears on the eastern horizon. The light of the new day reveals to us the whole length of the line and our mood sinks even further; we now start to question our hopes of leaving the same day. Off and on, military trucks pass by, soldiers holding machine guns, some on the ready, just in case… I catch myself thinking what would happen if somebody’s frustration reached the boiling point and a fight broke out. Would they really start shooting? I quickly dismiss the thought and try to conjure up positive thoughts instead.
The sun is quite high up in the sky when the first buses start arriving. There is another commotion as names of airlines are being called out and people are shuffled this way and that. Several lines are forming based on the airline and destination. We are lucky, our line seems to be shorter and it is moving faster – we are finally inching towards the distant airport. Then a bus arrives; I hear someone yell something I do not understand and people from our line start to run towards it. We grab our luggage and run as well. Another bus appears and we manage to reach its door. To this day I am still not sure whether that indeed was the correct bus or not due to the general confusion (and my very insufficient Spanish), but we are allowed to board and the bus takes off toward the airport. Our hopes fly high once again.
Leaving Mexico after Wilma...
When we reach the airport, we are directed to yet another line. The line moves slowly, but we are used to waiting by now. As long as we can get there in the end, we will be fine, we keep telling ourselves. Then the power goes out again and so do our hopes of departure. However, the desk people do not panic and bravely start the time-consuming process of checking people in manually. We take out our last piece of food and brace ourselves for a few more hours of waiting.
We are pleasantly surprised that in only two more hours we are actually checked in and allowed to the gate. One more hour or so and we are airborne. Everyone aboard is clapping during the take-off; I join in and I realize that never in my life was I so happy to be returning from a vacation. I know we will never forget this trip and the adventure it brought us and that we will have a story to share and memories to cherish for many years to come, but for now, I breathe a sigh of relief, lean my seat back and finally relax. What a vacation!