AIRLINE MAYHEM and wild goose chases……

All was going perfectly Wednesday morning heading out of Banos and on to the next phase of our journey, The Galapagos Islands. We both woke up at 4am easily. Our driver was on time. And we got to the airport early. I’d reserved my tickets online but was unable to pay due to internet peculiarities. The email message from the agent said to pay at the airport. So, when we arrived, I used my very best Spanish.
Q: ?Disculpe, Senor, donde puedo comprar boletos de TACA, por favor?
A: Blahmasrapidoblah….a la derecha.
Thank God he pointed. Okay, so that way and to the right. We walked and looked but we saw no TACA signs. No hay problema. I’ll ask someone else. This time I strategically tried out the more friendly, informal address I’d noticed was commonplace, hoping to garner a more thoughtful, helpful and thorough explanation.
Q: “?Disculpe, amigo, sabes donde es TACA?
A:”Blahblahblahblhablahblahblah”…..
Hmmmm…..
Q: “Despacio, por favor, mi Espanol is muy mal”
….Phew! I had succeeded in at least illiciting pity and he seemed confident as he led us back in the other direction and took us to an odd random looking doorway.
Q: “Aqui?”
A: “Si”
Q: “Seguro”
A: “Si”
….Muchas Gracias and off he went. Bobby and I looked at each other and then to the unmarked doorway. It turns out we were directed to an airplane control center of some sort. They held my passport and made Bobby stay downstairs as I went up to the control room on the third floor for TACA. I could hear them directing pilots as I explained my situation to the perturbed man I’d interrupted doing an obviously important job of what I’m assuming was grounding planes from the way he was talking. He quickly explained that it was not possible to purchase tickets at the airport. We needed to take a taxi to the TACA office twenty minutes away. He jotted down the address and nudged me on my way with an assuring but firm nod at what could only have been a confused face looking back at him. But our plane leaves in 2 hours was what my blank face and dropped bottom lip read to the back now facing me. Shit! I rushed downstairs and we headed to grab a taxi. Rule 1: Never seek a taxi in Quito, Ecuador in desperation and without agreeing on the fare. We did try mind you. But he assured us he would use the meter and we’d yet to hear warnings about rigged meters. Traffic made the trip slow and when he finally pulled up to stop it wasn’t at the TACA office. “No entiendo, este no es TACA. Necesitamos TACA.” I showed him the address again. “No es mejor! (No, it’s better!)” he said. He obviously had relatives who worked at this travel agency and wanted us to get our tickets here. Great. With the meter still running and suspiciously fast, mind you, I explained: “No entiende. Tenemos un reservacion con TACA. Necesitamos solamente pagar. Ahora, por favor, a TACA!” He sped away. We arrive. TACA is closed, a beautiful new detail in this evolving nightmare. Galapagos is so close but seems so far away now. I can taste the salt water as we look longingly at the closed office, meter still ticking. Fifteen minutes later and with one hour before our flight, I explain the situation to the lady opening the gate. But we don’t fly to the Galapagos, she said. What, you don’t? No, we have no flights to the Galapagos. I look down at the crumpled post-it and its' scribblings of my reservation code # and airline. Very clearly I have written: “TAME.”

Fifteen minutes later we are back at the airport, $40 (our entire budget for the day) lighter and with 45 minutes to go. We enter the TAME stand, purchase our tickets and make the flight. Sitting there in the airplane with sweat dripping off of us, I can tell it’s difficult for my husband to decide whether to kill me right then and there or simply be happy we made it.