Journeying Home

January 9th, 2017

Still sitting across from John in the airport in Rio. He’s on two phones right now and that is a little confusing. Maybe the little one without a case is the one he used while he was staying down here (in Brazil) by himself? I haven’t seen him whip out the blue phone before now, and he definitely looks a little confused by it. I love this deductive reasoning. He’s also rolling his ankles in a funny way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. We should be boarding soon, I’ll ask him about the double phoneage then.

I’ll miss this place and its people. It is so damn fun to look up and see so many different patterns and colors on so many people who rock the bejesus out of them.

UPDATE: John didn’t clarify whether or not the iPhone 4 was the one we used when he stayed here by himself, but he did say that it is a phone he would be willing to hand over to somebody who wanted to nab it from him on the streets of Rio.

Back to the colorful life of Cariocas. Throughout my short stay I ever failed to be impressed by the lives of the people of Rio. Maybe impressed isn’t the right word. I think I was always surprised. Especially after reading Barbassa’s book, Dancing with the Devil in the City of God, I guess I was expecting everyone who lived in Rio to be moping around about how horrible everything is in their city. And Barbassa’s depiction was even before the Olympics, most of its destructive construction, and that aftermath.

UPDATE: I have officially made it back to Dallas, Texas, USA! However, now I am camping out in front of the bag service counter waiting for the Aeromexico agent to arrive—my bad did not make it back to ‘Merica like I did. Additionally, I developed one nasty cold on the way back up north and have lost about half of my hearing to what is lovingly called airplane ears. Whoohoo. I was waiting for my ear drums to rupture and anticipating what that was going to feel like. On the way from Sao Paulo to Mexico City my right ear never popped at all. That wasn’t too bad, just really unsettling because, you know, all that pressure has to go somewhere. But the worst was the three hour flight from Mexico City to Dallas. My ears didn’t pop at all. That wasn’t even the scariest thing. Once I woke up from a nap I was able to feel the burning pain stretching from the bottom of my ear all the way to the joint of my mandible. Guess what? THAT STILL HASN’T GONE AWAY. I stopped freaking out once I got into the airport, though. At least there isn’t any more altitude to provide an immediate danger to my ears. And I am hearing some teeny weeny baby pops!! Whoohoo!

972-973-4122

That’s the number of the agent who has been “coming soon” since about thirty minutes ago. Two different guys who worked in the baggage claim area called her a total of about six or seven times…with no answer! They both suggested for me to go through customs without my baggage to talk to the Aeromexico desk on the other side of customs. That’s a hella smart idea to design the baggage claim area with the people on the other side—haha! I was strutting out of the baggage claim to go sassily chat with some folks about finding my bag when the two men starting pointing at a lady walking in and shouting That’s her! That’s her! The women was moseying in at a snail’s pace with a cup of coffee in her hand. A women, who had also become involved in the hunt for my bag and the Aeromexico agent, walked me over to her and told the agent that I needed her help. The agent’s response was hilarious. She made a little disgusted look and said with a Mexican accent, “For what?” She was flabbergasted that someone would need her help! That whole encounter ended with me finding out that my luggage was somewhere in Brazil or Mexico and that I would get it back eventually. Good thing it’s all summer clothes!

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