In flight - the first leg
My ride is scheduled for 3:30 am! Steve, the driver, arrives on the dot and we have great conversations on the way to Newark. At the end of the ride, he says call him anytime and he’ll connect me to his wife for health insurance tips.
I’m leery of Newark based on past experiences but it’s a whole new deal now, with a new terminal and everything.
Inside the terminal, there’s a large woman draped over the check-in kiosk. She eyes me balefully. “I checked in electronically,” I say nervously, “do I need to do anything here?” She sighs. “Your boarding pass and picture ID,” she says, palm up. I fumble in my bag. Normally adept at self check-in, I am all thumbs in the face of a disdainful, butter-won’t-melt-in-her-mouth glare. I wait patiently as she helps someone else. As I hand her my credentials, she gestures behind me with her eyes. Faint eye-roll. I look over my shoulder. There’s a mild-mannered man standing a couple of feet from us. I turn back with a question in my eyes. “Why he standing there?” she mutters (I guess I am her friend now) “Why he can’t go to someone else?”
She turns her gaze on him and he stammers out his question. She responds curtly, then swings back to give me my marching orders, extending her hand for the $30 bag fee and the reason I couldn’t self check-in at the self check-in kiosk.
I drop off my bag and head over to security, gulping down my bottle of water. I’m still at sixes and sevens from my check-in encounter as I approach TSA. I walk up to a portal that says CLEAR. The agent points to the right with exaggerated patience and says, for the thousandth time that morning, “that way, please.” Next I wander over to TSA pre-check to be told I can’t use that line either. On to the right line, where I hand my passport, now glistening with water, to the agent. He comments on its dampness, then laughs. Shoes off, carry-on in tray, I walk over to the scanner, which is tailored for giants. I stand, in an impossibly wide stance, arms outstretched. “Don’t these come in petite?” I joke to the unsmiling agent. He is not amused.
On go the shoes and I jog down the escalator towards the gate. The airport maps list Zero’s Family Bakery. Sounds like a good place for breakfast. The 12-oz of water I just chugged are making their presence felt. I find a restroom.
Zero’s turns out to be Zaro’s. Several efficient women at the counter take orders, clean, stock supplies, wrap food, call customers to pick up their purchases. It’s just about 5 am but a veggie omelet melt on a croissant calls my name. I order that and a single shot of espresso. I’m not disappointed. The omelet is succulent and packed with flavor. The croissant is crisp and flaky. Stuffed, I await boarding, sketching my fellow travelers. There are multiple, ultramodern seating options. Brightly lit signs cycle through Joisey facts and announce flight information. I learn that NJ’s state tree is the red oak, the fruit blueberry and most New Jerseyans are engineers or scientists. Guilty as charged.
The gate agent makes a point of informing us that Group 1, which boards right after those who need assistance, are armed forces personnel. A couple of young women walk over to board, glowing with righteous pride, as dozens of pairs of eyes follow them. When I finally board with Group 7, a smart GenZ subtly edges to the next line, doubting my tech skills. I surprise him by quickly scanning my boarding pass, then beat him to the crowded jetway. I stretch and twist to loosen up as we inch towards the door.
The plane isn’t super full. There’s plenty of room in the back. I pop my bag into the overhead and settle into my aisle seat. A few minutes later, a smiling young woman asks if I want to switch to a window seat up front. I decline. After copious hydration to prepare for air travel, I want to minimize impediments between me and the facilities. She hefts a stiff backpack onto the middle seat. Two beady eyes peer at me with great curiosity. I make friends with Honey the Tuxedo, who settles in beside me after showing off her fresh main-pedi. Her human companion and I exchange moggie-laced small talk.
The 737 lacks personal screens. You have to connect and watch on your personal device, so they provide a stand for devices. My carefully packed headphones work with my iPhone but not the 10th generation iPad. Apple has finally decided to switch from Lightnin to USB-C. I start watching the pilot of Billions with captions turned on.
The man in the window seat across the aisle records the takeoff on his mobile. We each have our ways of documenting life. The young woman beside him hunches into her hoodie, then, once we’re in the air, she pushes up the arm rest and curls into a ball on two seats.
The restroom is even more compact than on any other flight. At the start of the flight, it’s still clean and well stocked. The attendants offer us Biscoffs and beverages. Business or first up front gets trays of something more substantial.
Soooo sleepy. Nap time!
A little later, we start to descend. The amateur cinematographer across the way is filming exciting footage of an upturned wingtip and a shadow skating on a patch of sunlit runway. Touchdown is a mite rough. Honey is disconcerted, but not for long. The little Tuxedo, Maria and I say our goodbyes and are the last ones to disembark. American’s app tells me the way from my current gate to the next one. Amazing that I land at the same gate I took off from in Newark.
Dallas Fort Worth
It’s a huge airport, well connected by Skylink. The monorail car is jam packed but a few travel companions and I squeeze in. The handles are either too high up or too far away, so I wobble and swerve as the vehicle glides from one stop to another. Fortunately, I haven’t far to go. At the next terminal, all I need to do is ride up the escalator and I’m at the departure gate. I visit the facilities, listening to a nasally woman behind me complain about the long line. Later, I crave a salty snack and spend $5.19 for a bag of TGIF bacon-cheddar potato skins. My next flight starts boarding. Several passengers have to stoop for the facial biometric scan. You guessed it. I have to tiptoe. The camera records my sheepish grin.
On to OAX
Why did American offer me an upgrade to first for just $135? There are about 8 seats, all taken. I keep my money and stick with the coach seat I’m assigned. It’s a 2½ hour journey. I’ll be just fine.
This flight is packed. A few tourists like me and a lot of people traveling home. No kitties on this flight. Oh wait, there’s a kitty in a seat behind me, unicorns on her leggings, hearts on her sneakers. The flight attendants have a decidedly southern twang and one is particularly stern despite her gentle, smiling face. The passengers are exceedingly kind to each other and to me. I settle down to enjoy the next episodes of Billions. A teaser - they just have 3 free episodes. I’m sure they want me to pay for more. No dice. Later, we’re handed a minute Kind bar, a bag of pretzels and a beverage.
A couple of hours later, we spy a sun drenched Oaxaca, and wait our turn to touch down behind 4 other flights. The plane banks and turns, showing us glimpses of brown earth, dotted with trees, bleached walls and tiled roofs.
Xoxocotlan Airport, Oaxaca
The airport is compact. No frills. I walk down the air stairs, shrugging off my light jacket. It’s warm. I’m handed a form that isn’t bilingual. I can recognize most of the words, with a little support from iPhone’s translate app. My responses satisfy the immigration official (one of two serving that airport) and I move to the single baggage carousel. No bags. But wait! I should have paid more attention to the things around it. Airport staff have kindly lifted my checked bag off the belt. I grab it and thank them. The whole area, immigration, baggage claim, customs is barely larger than my living and dining room at home.
I stand in line for the customs check and meet Diane from Chicago, another Road Scholar. In the few minutes that we spend in line, we manage to figure out that we both lived in Greenville SC for a few years, though at slightly different times. Despite the four flights that landed before us, international arrivals is organized and quick. My bag is flagged for a check so the customs agents dig through, feeling my shoes and asking about my hydration pack. Finally I am out in the lobby with my companions for the next few days. We are shepherded into a van by the driver, Javier. A 20 - 25 min drive on narrow streets lined with dazzling bougainvillea gets us to the Casa Conzatti.
Casa Conzatti
My room is nothing fancy but it’s pleasant and clean. Just outside I meet an interesting caterpillar and help a staff member move it from the crazy paving to a more conducive environment.
There’s a grasshopper in my sandwich…
Martha takes Janet and me for a trilogía de memelitas con queso, chorizo y chapulines (grasshoppers) at La Casa Del Tio Güero. Delicious. Then we wander the streets to a chocolate shop, where I buy dark chocolate with pataxtle (cacao blanco, or albino cacao nibs). We plan to visit the Aripo art institute for local handicrafts.
In the evening, the Road Scholars gather in the Casa Conzatti’s courtyard for an apéritif. Laya (pronounced like Leia) from Santa Barbara, Dorothy and Janet from Seattle, Martha from Sarasota, Elaine and Annelies from Santa Cruz, Debbie from Cheyenne, Liz from Redding, Penny (Panelpha) from San Jose, Diane and Linda from Chicago, Mary from Union City, Gigi and Lisa from Salt Lake City, Art and Margaret from Texas and our group leaders, Tere and Gina from Mexico City. Annelies and Elaine tell us about their visit to the Aripo institute that afternoon. The rest of us decide we must visit sometime.
Dinner starts with vegetable soup a clear broth poured over lightly cooked chunks of chayote, celery, carrots, stringy, chewy quesillo, chicken, avocado, and rice, then drizzled with a hot sauce and lime juice. It’s served with crusty rolls and butter. This is followed by a platter of cecina (cured pork) with enmoladas (tortillas in mole), refried beans, and guacamole. Dessert is rice pudding with raisins and a sprinkling of brown sugar or chocolate. To bed after we learn what adventures await us the following day.
Oh wow! That certainly was beautiful.