My belated contribution to the scrapbook

For those of you reading this blog who do not know, Dave and Carolyn Snow just celebrated 50 years of wedded bliss last Friday, August 18th. Their granddaughter, Jami, had told everyone in the family that she was putting together a scrapbook of memories for them, and asked anyone who wished to contribute. I was totally planning to add one of my favorite memories (there have been so many over the last 50 years) and I totally forgot. So, I wrote the following today and sent it to them to add to the book, but I wanted to share it with the rest of the readers of this Blog.

OUR MEXICO ADVENTURE

It was sometime between 1983 and 1985—I know because I was living in my little house in Astocita close to the Houston Intercontinental Airport. As an airline employee I was privileged to receive free travel for myself and family members, so, being the kind-hearted person I am, I offered my dear sister, Carolyn, and her husband, Dave, an expense-paid trip to Mexico City.

The passing years have blurred many of the fine details of the trip, but the events of the return flight are forever seared on our collective memories, and probably remembered slightly differently by all parties in this adventure. I remember a rather uneventful flight from Houston to Mexico City, although I did not realize until we were enroute that at this time in his life Dave was what we called a white-knuckle flyer. I did think it strange that he said little on the flight and seemed more interested in the free drinks in first class (he has long since sworn off alcohol, as have I, but at the time it was probably a good thing he was still inbibing).

I remember we had a mostly enjoyable time while there. We went to local restaurants and took a bus tour to the pyramids (one of Dave’s great interests at the time) and some local villages on the way.

The fun really started on the return home. Since I was the airline employee who spent my working days making reservations and putting people on airplanes, Dave and Carolyn left all flight details to me, trusting that I knew what I was doing and had everything under control—what would later prove to be a serious mistake.

According to my schedule, our return flight was due to leave Mexico City at 9:00 AM. Therefore, I ensured that we were all up, packed, and out the door in time to dutifully arrive one hour early for standby check-in. We arrived at the Mexico City airport a few minutes after 8:00 AM only to find, to my great surprise and consternation, that the flight was boarded and had taxied to the runway for take-off—no way we could get on. Turns out the schedule had changed, and I, the travel expert, did not call to re-confirm the departure time.

The first rumblings of fear and panic emerged from Dave and Carolyn. “Not to worry” I exclaimed. “There is another flight leaving early afternoon that will get us back to Houston before dark.” I calmed them down, checked us in on stand-by for the next flight, and suggested we have breakfast in the terminal. After eating a leisurely breakfast, we wandered through the terminal checking out the shops, then found some chairs in which we could sit and read or doze as we whiled away the time before the next flight.

Being that we were traveling on stand-by, we had to wait until all paying passengers were checked in and sent to board before we were finally given our boarding passes and cleared to go on this flight. For the sake of understanding, a bit of explanation is necessary here. This was before the days of terrorist threats and two-hour boarding processes. Check-in at the Mexico City airport was done entirely at the ticket counter on the ground level BEFORE going through airport security. Therefore we had to wait until approximately 10 minutes before flight departure to get our boarding passes.

While waiting, it occurred to us that we had failed to purchase any Mexican vanilla, which was one of the primary items both Carolyn and I wanted to bring home. I was planning to grab a bottle at the shop by the boarding gate as soon as we were cleared through security. I made the mistake of mentioning that to the lovely lady at the ticket counter who was also a friend and co-worker. She said, “you don’t want to buy it up there—the vanilla on this level is much better quality.”

Now I need to insert here that Carolyn and Dave had told me more than once that they had spent all of their pesos and had no cash, Mexican or US, on their persons. I continually reassured them that I had adequate pesos left to pay the Mexican departure tax as we went through security. However, somewhere between the last assurance of that fact and the time I rushed to purchase the good vanilla, that fact escaped my consciousness. I made my vanilla purchase using the last of my pesos and returned to wait to board. As we received our boarding passes, the ugly truth hit me. I had no money! Dave and Carolyn had no money!

Now it was my turn to panic, as Carolyn was rapidly metamorphising in front of my eyes from sweet, trusting sister, to an enraged Brynhildr (one of Mahler’s terrifying Valkeries), ready to hurl a thunderbold of destruction from Olympus for my demonstrated stupidity. By now full-blown panic had set in for all of us, as Dave and Carolyn has visions of being trapped in a foreign country with no money. I, on the other hand, knew there was yet another alternative on Pan Am later that afternoon, but it would have requrired pruchasing tickets on my American Express card, an option I did not relish.

Time was at a premium, so we asked the sweet lady at the ticket cournter if she would cash a check so we could get out of town. As she knew me and where to find me, she agreed, but she could only give us US dollars—she could not change them into pesos. That meant I had to take the money and go through the money exchange so we could get through security.

I rushed to the money exchange booth where there was a long line, and proceeded to do one of the more desperate and rude acts of my life—I pushed my way to the head of the line and briefly apologized saying our flight was leaving and if I did not get us on I might not leave Mexico alive.(Hell hath no fury like Carolyn stuck in Mexico).

Having the requisite pesos in hand, we proceeded through the security check point and paid the departure tax. As I stepped though the metal detector the alarm began to sound as if I were made of steel. I stepped back and opened my carry-on bag only to find a large gold plate with a Mexican sun-god embossed on the front which I had purchased while waiting. (I hated that thing and never used it…)

After that little set-back we ran to the boarding gate where we were met by helpful agents who shoved us into a waiting station wagon and whisked us out to the runway where the plane was waiting with the stairs down for us to board. On to the plane we went, almost falling into our first-class seats, where we ordered drinks and sat very quietly for the flight home.

We arrived back at the Houston airport around 5:00 pm. I invited Dave and Carolyn to spend the night with me and drive home in the morning, but for some strange reason they were not interested. They just wanted to get on Highway 59 and as far away from airports and brothers as they could.

That’s my story and I am sticking by it. If any of the principles remember it differently or want to add their own comments, feel free.

ADDENDUM

After Dave read the above he sent me some of his memories of the trip that fill out some missing details:

As anyone knows, if there are several witnesses to a single event, likely as not there will be several variations on the details of said event.Since I was a participant in the Mexico Adventure, I remember it slightly different. And, it does not matter one bit either way, but I will add my version.

I have always been under the impression that you (the renowned world traveler) did not recon that there was a time zone difference between Houston and Mexico City and that that was why we arrived one hour late for boarding, not that Continental had changed their schedule. (Mexico City is on the same time as Houston...dtb)

Also, I have labored under the illusion that the bottled liquid that took our last peso was some kind of Mexican liquor, Choilla (sp) or something, instead of vanilla. But one detail I remember vividly: the check to the airline employee. You asked if she would take your personal check for $12.00, since the tax was $4.00 US to get out of the terminal. Anyway, she indicated that she would take your check since you both worked for the same outfit. However, you discovered you did not have a check.

Well, all eyes turned to me and I did happen to have brought my checkbook (on a Marshall, Texas bank). I know that it was our check because we kept the canceled check (back when the bank sent the checks back with the statement). It was cashed at Lord and Taylor in Houston.

Also, as I vividly recall, the bell went off with the bag I was carrying (it may well have been your bag, I do not remember) but it did have the rather large brass plate. Of course they had us open it up and went through the entire contents, all while the plane was waiting.

Also, I remember climbing up the stairs with the heavy bags and it seems that while flight attendant was raising the air-stairs and shutting the cabin door that the pilot had already shoved the throttles forward on the 727, in a heck-of-a-hurry to get air born. It seemed also that the climb out was unusually turbulent which did not help my peace of mind at the moment. That is probably why, when they asked me what I was drinking, I requested Jack-on-the-rocks. Anyway, that's how I have been telling the story for years. Sometimes when one tells something so long the same way, it becomes truth. I guess we will never know for sure.Thank you for thanking of us during this passing of this milestone.

Yet another detail comes to mind. The Contenintal employee who took the check had to go away from her counter and out to the parking lot to her car for the cash we needed. The exact time frame is, at this point unclear; however, it seemed to take forever for you to get the US dollars changed into pesos and then we made a mad dash up to the check out place and the guards (Fedarallies) with ammunition belts and carbines slung over their shouders. Not a place I wanted to mess up in or get cross ways with. I guess I was a bit paraniod.

Also, I seem to remember that we only had two persons registered for the room so one of us was a stow-a-way. The bus ride was fun, and informative, watching the old school buses, loaded to the windows with people and goats, etc. and watching the donkey drink coke out of a bottle.

Glad we went, but do not want to go again.