Day 1

Months of emails, phone calls, internet research and careful planning made me feel prepared and confident with a dose of worldly wisdom.  After a delicious and loving lunch with Tim at an Asian eatery in Nashua, we boarded the Boston Express to Logan Airport full of food and expectations.  We watched tearfully as Tim drove along beside our bus as far as he could before he exited the highway, waving his arm and wiping his eyes...How could I do this to him?  I felt waves of regret, guilt and anticipatory loneliness followed by resigned acceptance.

The Shuttle Bus

As we drove down the road I had plenty of time to prepare mentally for the rushed feeling I would experience during airport security.  I was super-prepared with all suspicious items carefully placed in ziploc bags and prescription meds in their original boxes with labels.  As long as we weren't made to hurry, nothing could go wrong.


 That is, until we arrived punctually at the airport and learned immediately that our flight was delayed due to wet runway conditions, and that we would not be making our connecting flight.  Our choices: full refund, or take the flight two hours late, and wait 10 hours in the Ft. Lauderdale airport before making the next flight to San Jose.  Quick calculations showed me that calling my cousin to come and meet us in Boston would be a frustrating delay with all our luggage, a quick side trip to Chinatown? Also the luggage issue.  Full refund? I looked at the kids and asked, "What do you think?"  "We're staying.  This is already part of the adventure.  We'll sleep on the floor at the airport."  Doubtful glances, but trust.  They trust me.  They think I know what I'm doing!

Catching some winks at the Ft. Lauderdale airport

 So now, we're in Ft. Lauderdale, and the kids are, yep, you guessed it, sleeping on the airport floor.  None of them thought they could, but they all are. Twitching and dreaming and resting their weary bodies while I sit and keep watch in the bright noisy baggage claim area.  The adventure has only just begun.  Stuffed in my pocket, written on a napkin with a borrowed pen, the phone number of a man I don't know and don't really want to know....the kind gift of a stranger at Logan:  You traveling alone with those kids? To Costa Rica?  I'm going to work for a powerful man there.  He's very important.  Here's his number.  You never know what you might need, you know.  I'm Lalo.  Yes, he'll know me. Good luck to you....

As I sit and keep watch.