My vacation this year began with a trip to the airport. A trip in a raining morning, after an anguishing weekend. So let's begin by the anguishing weekend.
JP and Aunt Léa were leaving Brazil on Friday night, arrive in Washington on Saturday morning and have an intense weekend in the American capital, filled with visits to museums and monuments. I had planned their itinerary along with JP, and Aunt Liana was there waiting for them. SHe was to be their host for that leg of the trip
But on Friday night I received a message from Aunt Léa saying that the conection São Paulo-Washington was going to be delayed due to an issue in the aircraft. They'd arrive in DC six hours late.
Darn. That's so annoying. It will be a rushed day.
Hours later, another message from my aunt. Flight canceled. They were being taken to a motel and would only leave in 24 hours.
Twenty-four hours? A whole day? Half the trip, gone? At this point, I, who had spent hours with JP on the phone planning each step they'd take in that trip felt frustrated! So much planning for everything to go wrong!
But, fine. They would have Sunday. JP was taking advantage of the time at the hotel to check out the itinerary and pick and choose some stuff.
The problem was that, at this point, I had no psychological conditions for anything. I was to spend Saturday doing housecleaning and making sure the house was ready to receive them. But, in the anguishing wait for news, I couldn't even finish my lunch. At this point, if I crossed paths with a United employee, I'd fill him up with punches.
Saturday afternoon, the bomb came. THe flight would only leave Sunday afternoon. This news, once and for all, buried the Washington trip.
On Monday, at six in the morning they would be flying here, so they would have no time at all to see Washington. No museums,
no monuments, nothing.
My frustration was so that at this point I didn't even need a United employee. One had only to be a moving being to be a potential victim of mine. The trip planned with so much love and care was canceled.
Noting my anguish, Dean tried, in vain, to solve the problem. He called United and tried to get them into a flight, any flight, from any airline, that came from there to here. No flights had room.
Sunday was lived in the anguishing expectation that this flight would indeed leave the ground, so that they wouldn't miss the flight here to my home. If that happened, then the plot would thicken. I didn't even go to church, in the expectation of receiving any news. God knows at what time I remembered my house was still to be cleaned.
Dean, who was being a true angel to me, helped with the cleaning with no complains. Miracle?No! He knew exactly what a nerve-wreck I was.
When I heard they had boarded the plane, two hours delayed, I rested. I rested an un-restful rest. A disappointed rest. That rest that every Brazilian rests after the loss of a world cup. This dream is over. See you next time. My comfort was knowing that the next part of the trip was coming. Our part. God willing, that would go ok. Let's go to bed. Monday is another day.
To be continued next Sunday...