Atta Girl!

December 15, 2012

Chegei na casa de Denise e Joas e Theo e Dono…!

Left Cris’ apartment this morning at 10:30, arriving at the Bus Station (Barra Funda) station at 11:30…didn’t quite turn out that way. The baggage guy who couldn’t be bothered to get out of his lounger chair double-checked his clipboard, nope, the bus leaves at 1:00pm and won’t get to the airport on time for your 2:00pm flight. The chubby lazy yellow shirted pot bellied man insisted the only solution was to drive to the bus station on the far north side to catch transport near the airport then a short taxi ride would take me the rest of the way. Great. We sped off, getting lost several times, turned around more than a few times and arrived at Tiete. Flagged down a brilliant yellow-shirted guy (they are all Federal workers) who charged me R$10 to haul off my bags and rattled off directives while handing me a wrinkled dingy yellowish receipt after telling him I was going to Campinas. Skirted down the hallway, asking several people where I could buy a ticket to Campinas. Down on the end, the red sign, next to us, the second one down…everyone tells me something different..finally figure out which bus company will drop me at Campinas airport. Realize the baggage guy thinks I am going to the BUS station in Campinas so I race as fast as I can down the passage to Platform 1 to show my receipt and explain the change in vendors. Run to the bathroom then onto Platform 28 where I am relieved to finally see my bags again, give the guy a significant tip and hop on. Since the sign on the front of the bus flashes another route, I confirm the destination. The driver snickered when I asked him if we would arrive at the airport in an hour…no missy, more like an hour and twenty minutes! Already knew then I would miss my plane. Had to just try to relax and accept the fact that I would probably be sleeping in the airport. Crap!

A guy jumped on the bus to make a loud and vigorous announcement about his delicious chocolates. He hands each passive passenger a sample and then jumps around in the aisle to accommodate all of the buyers. I can see thru the flimsy curtain, watching the salesman divide his take with the driver. Didn’t seem to me he made out very well.

I am the sole airport drop-off. As the bus pulls away, I struggle with my huge red bag, throwing questions over my shoulder to the passerbyers (is that a word?) as to which door leads to the Azul check-in. A curtain thin flight attendant zealously strutted in front of me, grabbed the handle of my backbreaking bag and pulled it along thru the double doors and insisted one of the reps help me. I sighed to her in enormous relief and expressed my thanks. Of course, the flight is already closed since I was abandoned with only ten minutes before it is scheduled to leave. I calmly explain what happened and the attendant shuffles me off in a wheelchair nonetheless to stand in line at the loja where I can supposedly plead my case and get the ticket changed.

Too many people in line working in their challenges with the reps are vehemently complaining about the cost of the adjustment to their schedules. Loudly! I didn’t even consider another alternative, simply waited and watched. Before I knew it, I was wheeled into the front of another line to get my receipt. No questions asked at the security check. Got help on and off the bus, up and down the stairs to the airplane and escorted to the baggage claim. What service!

So, I cannot believe after ten years, I am in my old stomping grounds in Florianopolis. My friends are incredulous as well. We just keep shaking our heads, exclaiming the miracle of it. Lots of stories to catch up on so I don’t have time to create a more in-depth blog.