A Very Costa Rican Honeymoon (AVCRH) : Good Thing I’m Not Driving

Remember when I put up that post and was all, “I’m boarding my connecting flight in GUAM, y’all – don’t miss me too much peaceoutsuckas!”

?

Yeahhh… turns out airport code GUA is GUATEMALA.  The TACA dude thought I was off my dang rocker when I asked what time our plane to Guam landed.  Stupid white girl.

btw, Tall, blonde, and caucasion in the international terminal at LAX is a good way to feel like a freaking outcast.

This is where I’d normally rant about disorder and general asshat-ness that is LAX and all of the people inside of it, but I won’t.  Y’all know airports suck.  They can’t all be John Wayne Orange County, and all flyers can’t have brains.  Life’d be too easy.

Listen to the traveling wedding dress.

Anyways, once I finally fell asleep on our midnight flight, the bastards flipped on the cabin lights and started clunking their carts down the aisles.

I was super annoyed until I realized what the raucous was about :

I’ll fly TACA ev.ery.where. for in-flight meals and $0 check bag fees.  What luxury!

When we finally landed (in Guatemala, not Guam), I asked B if he wanted to review our itinerary again, watch me play sudoku, or practice the 10 Spanish words we knew between the two of us to kill the time till our flight to Costa Rica.

So whatever, I walked around and wasted no time buying souvenirs and deciding on my new pseudonym.

I ended up using the satchel every day of the trip, and the “makeup bag” became “why-do-we-have-so-many-dang-chargers bag”.  So, $17 souvenir jackpot.

When it came time to board, we walk up to our “gate” – a doorway with no flight numbers or destinations, just two flight attendants – and hand over our boarding passes.  Eeeeeee!  Honeymoon time!  Excited!

Until the attendant hands my boarding pass back and points us to go away.

“No, (espanolespanolespanolespanol gibberish)”

What??!  Let us on our dang plane!  I’m not hanging out here waiting for Jurassic Park, lady.

Then the other attendant started gibbering at us, and we’re holding up the line, and I’m pointing at the gate number on the boarding pass and she keeps jabbing back, and nobody can understand each other, and WHATTHEFUCK.

(everyone who said “oh, you’ll be fiiiiiine” not knowing Spanish – I’ve got a kidney punch IOU for you)

Turns out we were an hour early and that wasn’t our plane.  Guatemala is on Central time, like our itinerary said, but they don’t observe Daylight Savings so they were actually an hour behind the time we thought it was.  Or something.  I don’t know.  Does that make sense?

Whatever.

All in all, we tried to stowaway on a plane headed for GodKnowsWhere, and will be taking Espanol classes ASAP.

Our actual flight was uneventful, as was baggage, immigration, and customs.  We found the driver with our name sign, and hopped in the car for a two-hour jaunt out of San Jose and into the jungle to our first hotel.

Our drivers lack of communicative skills were quickly forgotten when we put our faith in his driving through Sketch City, and around hairpin windy one-lane roads in torrential downpour.

But obviously we survived, and pulled up to Hotel #1 right on time…

To be continued…

Sarah OUaL