This was the final leg of their vacation. In fact, their vacation had already ended. They were on their way home and had taken a short flight into Los Cabos from Mexico City, with a 4 hour layover before their final transfer to California. When they arrived in Los Cabos just a couple minutes passed 11:00 am, they exited the small plane into an equally small terminal and were confronted by the Mexican Customs Department. "Toca el botón," said the officer. Pressing the electronic button on top of the slender steel pole, everyone turned and stared at the small digital indicator. The light turned green, the customs agent turned around and waved the couple through into the main terminal. A red light meant a full customs search of all belongings.
The terminal opened up into a well lit main area with 20 foot windows displaying a magnificent view of the local mountain range, "La Sierra de la Laguna." From here passengers could access the airport's over priced souvenir shops, restaurants and currency exchange services while they waited for their flight. Seeing this, Brent reminded his wife that this would be there last chance to exchange their currency for a decent rate. So the couple converted their unspent pesos into dollars and stuffed the envelope they received from the cashier deep into a backpack.
The seating area was near full capacity, many of the passengers wearing clothing that indicated they were from the United States and too were returning home. Brent noticed a teenage girl wearing brown sweatpants with gold lettering which spelled out the name of the high school he graduated from. "It's a small world after all," stating the obvious, but also hinting at their trip to Disneyland the year earlier. Small World was one of his wife's favorite attractions. The plaza was bland and uneventful. Other than the shops, it was surrounded by a few flight gates. Each unimpressive gateway was constructed of a simple door leading out to the runway where passengers would board planes with the assistance of a mobile staircase. Seeing all this and anticipating the mental agitation and imagining the back pain he would endure during their extensive wait Brent said, "I can't sit here for 4 hours. Let's go to the beach." "Oh my God, why can't he just settle for some lunch?" Leilani thought to herself. She was the more conservative of the two and extremely cautious with giving her consent, as Brent had a history of getting the two involved in raucous adventures.
Both reviewed the itinerary, investigating whether they even had time for such an event. Leilani wasn't too thrilled with the idea of leaving the airport, as they had missed their flights before and have had several other close calls. As they were conspiring, a small boy came running through the aisle, tripping over their baggage. This caused Leilani to look around at the environment, calculating whether the pain and boredom they would experience was less than the risk of leaving the airport. Across the way a small family was sitting, the mother wiping her noise and coughing, apparently due to a cold she had contracted. Being somewhat sickly and sensitive to contagious illnesses, Leilani imagined green microbes of cold and flu virus floating through the air, making their way to her esophagus. Her throat was already soar and she was convinced that if she stayed in the terminal with the other passengers, she would surely catch something. Ultimately, this, in addition to the beckoning look on the face and in the eyes of her husband, closed the deal. "Alright," she said hesitantly. Brent's eyes lit up and he smiled. "Every day is an adventure with Leilani ," he said. It was his motto.
Leilani wanted to ensure the plan would be seamless and they proceeded to layout exactly how their excursion would unfold. On top of the usual anxiety from taking such a risk, they were in somewhat of a hurry since they had already spent 45 minutes of their layover time exiting the airplane and debating their options. This left them 3 hours and 15 minutes to play, as their flight departed at 3:00 pm. They stepped outside into the warm weather and cloudless sky. Quite different from the high elevation weather of Mexico City they had gotten used to. In fact, contrary to most México vacation advertisements, until now they had spent most of their vacation bundled up in hats, jackets and scarves. An airport employee was helping passengers in and out of their taxi or hotel transport vans, assuredly making good money from rich vacationers and their $2, $3, and sometimes $5 tips. Brent asked the busy worker, "How much is a taxi to the nearest beach?" To their suprise the man answered, "About 200 pesos," roughly $20. That meant a $40 round trip just to get to the beach. "What about a bus? Is there a bus that will take us to the beach?" Brent continued. The couple was directed to the end of the airport parking lot to the "bus stop" on the main road. There was no formal bus stop, just a patch of lifeless, dry earth from all of the foot traffic; mostly employees arriving to and departing from work at the airport. "How long will it take us to get to the beach on the bus?" Brent questioned. In a slightly agitated state, realizing that he was losing business and precious income with every second he spent talking to the couple he responded, "About 40 minutes." They calculated that if they get on the bus in the next 15 minutes, assume the bus ride will take 5 minutes longer than indicated, the two of them would have roughly an hour and a half to eat and relax on the beach.
As the two of them left the safety of the airport, they both began to secretly wonder whether this was a good idea or not. After their traumatizing confrontation with Tijuana police some years ago, they were extremely wary about placing themselves in unfamiliar territory. But they would be on a bus with many other passengers and expected to find themselves in a populated beach restaurant with other guests from the United States. They were simply taking a cheaper and less extravegant route to get there. Brent still couldn't help wondering if their bus would be the one taken over by highway robbers. After about 10 minutes in the scorching heat, a bus came roaring in from the opposite direction and following the turnabout lane, came abruptly to a stop just ahead of where the couple was standing. Several employees filed out of the bus' two exits, the looks on their faces indicating they did not enjoy their jobs. Brent approached the door near the front of the bus ahead of his wife. The bus driver, so engrained in his routine, did not make eye contact with the boarding passengers and nearly closed the door on them, failing to see that they had never boarded.
"Does this bus go to the beach?" Brent asked.
"Yes," responded the emotionless bus driver.
"How much is the fare?"
"What beach do you want to go to?"
"The closest beach. How much to take us to the closest beach?"
"You have to tell me which beach you want to go to, they have different prices."
"I don't know the names of the beaches here. We want to go to the beach closest to the airport." Brent realized that they should have picked up a Los Cabos Tour Guide and map from the small convenience store inside the airport.
"Look, I don't know where you want to go, maybe this is the wrong bus for you."
"You want to go to Playa Palmilla," said one of the passengers. "That's the closest beach to the airport."
"OK. We want to go to Palmilla," Brent told the bus driver.
"20 pesos each," the driver responded. This seemed expensive since they had been accustomed to paying 2 pesos each for the light rail and metro in Mexico City. But, relatively speaking the round trip for both of them would be less than $10, a 75% discount from the taxi Brent quickly calculated. Leilani still didn't believe it. "That's not the real price," she told him. The two boarded the bus, paid the driver, and received what appeared to be a regular ticket with an additional extension ticket. Perhaps it was because of the distance they were going. After all, 40 minutes was quite a long bus ride. "Gracias," Leilani said to the young man who had helped them, probably in his 20s. He was sitting with a young woman that appeared to be his girlfriend or perhaps his wife and responded casually, "De qué." The first phase of the adventure had been successfully completed: identify destination and acquire adequate round-trip transportation. The next step was to ensure they did not get off too early or exit the bus beyond their destination.
As they commenced, Brent noticed signs that indicated they were traveling on Highway 1 and wondered if this was the same Highway 1 that traversed practically the entire coast of California. They had often taken the highway when purchasing furniture his wife found on Craigslist in the Bay Area or Central Coast. He imagined how different the scenery was along the highway in Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo. The lush green hillsides, pine forests and cold beaches held no similarity to the dry, lifeless desert he found himself in. Small tire shops and restaurants lined the barren road. There were very few trees and every pedestrian had some method for blocking out the sun as they walked. He was thankful to be in the air conditioned vehicle. The bus would stop about every half mile and there was always someone getting on, but rarely anyone getting off.
They had been riding for about 25 minutes and the young man from earlier leaned over, got the couple's attention and said, "We're getting off soon. Your stop is fairly easy to recognize. You will go around a large bend overlooking the ocean and will come upon a stretch of highway with an underpass below it. After that you will go up a short hill and at the top of the hill is your stop." The couple was both relieved that they had received clearer directions but still concerned they weren't going to recognize the stop when they saw it. The bus came to a halt and the couple stepped down. They walked passed a sign with an arrow pointing down an adjacent road that read, "San Jose del Cabo - El Centro." Brent wondered if they were going the right direction. He had heard discussions and remembered watching "Mexico's Best Beaches" on the Travel Channel and have seen photos of luxurious hotels in Cabo San Lucas and Los Cabos. Now this third similarly named town, San Jose del Cabo, caused him to have a slight doubt about their travels. Were these names all describing the same place? He thought about how people in California refer to San Francisco as "The Bay," or "The City" and "Frisco." Brent quelched his fears and reassured himself that he was leading them on the right path. He had somewhat of a photographic memory and was quite good with directions. As they flew into the airport, Brent saw what appeared to be some kind of dirt filled stadium. Asking his wife about this, she told him that most likely it was for rodeos and bull fighting. While pondering the frequency of use of such a facility he also noted the highway's westward directionality towards the coast. Realizing he was now on the same highway he had seen from the air, he imagined looking down on himself from the plane, watching as the bus scooted along and envisioned arriving at the beach any moment. He caught himself in his enchanted state and realized his wife was doing the same. Had it continued, they would assuredly pass their stop.
Suprisingly, the bus driver notified the two that their stop was coming up. They expected that he would drive passed it unless they indicated their desire to get off. It was just as they had been told. The bus bent around the seaside curve, revealing the Pacific for the first time. The water was beautiful and the anticipation of putting his feet in excited Brent. His wife was preoccupied with watching the road, anxiously waiting for the bus driver to tell us when to get off. Unlike other stops, the bus veered off the highway onto a side street at the top of the hill. Here the bus driver stopped, opened the door and looked back at Leilani indicating this is where they should exit. They thanked the driver and he responded with a half smile, trying to be polite.
An older gentleman, dressed in work pants, long-sleeve shirt, boots and a hat also exited the bus with the couple. His stride and demeanor indicated he was familiar with the area and his destination seemed clear. As the bus pulled away, the couple realized that they were surrounded by, well... nothing. Large banana trees, small shrubbery and tall palms bearing coconuts hugged the road, blocking the view of the highway. "Which way do we go?" asked Leilani. Brent pondered a moment. He was expecting to see restaurants and tourist type accomodations as soon as they exited. Unknowingly, they had been taken far beyond the closest beach. Instead they were routed to Punta Palmilla, a private resort and community that was originally a vacation destination of sport fisherman and Hollywood movie stars. Realizing there were no immediate destinations, Brent thought that perhaps they should head towards the ocean, which they could see in the distance.
Rather than begin wandering down unknown streets, Leilani decided to ask the man heading down the hill towards what appeared to be private housing. "Excuse me!" she shouted, not loud enough for him to hear. She jogged closer and exclaimed again, "Excuse me sir!" This attempt reached the ears of the stranger and the man heard and turned around. "We're looking for a restaurant on the beach. Is there anything nearby?" she questioned. "No, there is nothing around here," he quickly responded. He went on to tell them that there were no restaurants or public hotels and the compound they were approaching was a private community named "Villa del Sol." "Do you work there?" asked Brent. The man was a landscaper for the community and maintained the extravegant yards and gardens of the homes in this desert oasis. He reiterated that they would not be able to enter and access the amenities of the community but did recall that there was a restaurant at the bottom of the hill belonging to the Hotel One and Only Palmilla. Leilani and Brent had no expectations of where they wanted to eat, they were simply trying to pass the time and have an enjoyable experience outside of the airport terminal. They thanked the man and the three of them continued walking. Shortly thereafter the man entered through a security station, protected by an electronic gate which maintained the entrance to the property. He said goodbye to the couple as they continued down the hill to the famous resort.
The lush plantlife and spotless streets spoke to the quality of the area. Sidewalks were neatly lined with tropical flowers and maintained with modern sprinkler systems. Of course, they never saw the sprinklers in operation, but the fact that they were installed was impressive. That the community would get enough water to maintain the foiliage was a miracle in itself. A high wall surrounded the remainder of the compound along the street. A woman dressed in her sports attire and expensive sunglasses jogged up the hill with her small dog on a short leash, leading the way. The two walked vigorously down the hill, gravity helpfully pulling them towards the bottom. After about 20 minutes, the greenery began to fade into yellows and browns. The well kept landscaping slowly flared off into rough neglected land, more common to the area. It was at this point that Leilani became concerned, as it appeared they had passed their destination and now were headed into underdeveloped territory. Just as they began to discuss their options, a man came around a corner just down the hill in a golf cart. He noticed the couple and rapidly approached.
The man pulled along side the couple, and asked them what they were doing there. The couple told him about how they had taken a bus from the airport and were told by the gardner that there was a restaurant at the bottom of the hill. The quasi-security guard responded, "Restaurants? No, there aren't any restaruants here. Well, there is one, but it costs nearly $100 per plate." The security guard instructed them that in order to get to a regular public restaurant, "You need to go back down the highway. The closest restaurant to here is a place called 'Zippers.'" Doubtful the man was telling them the truth, as they were told in the beginning that Palmilla was the closest beach, but they had no other choice except to take his advice. Realizing that they had walked quite a way from the bus stop, he offered to give the couple a ride to the top of the hill from where they came. Leilani sat down in the passenger seat of the guard's two-person golf cart, displaying minor relief that she was able to set down her things. Brent stood on the back of the golf cart, holding on to a section of the roof for grip. Despite the setback, he was actually enjoying the ride and was getting a mini thrill out of the whole ordeal. He always liked experiencing quirky things like that.
The small vehicle struggled up the hill under the weight of its three passengers and cargo. Shortly they arrived at the place they had been just 20 minutes ago and the guard repeated the directions and landmarks to look out for. The two had the option to get back on the bus, but the guard's explanation made it seem as though the restaurant was just a short walk. So they began the trek. Little did they know that Zippers was over a mile down the dangerous highway. As they walked down the onramp to the highway, they were exposed to a spectacular view overlooking a pristine golf course belonging to Villa Del Sol, lined with tropical flowers and normal beach greenery. Wishing they could trade places with the wealthy home owners spending their time playing golf and drinking fancy beach cocktails, they stopped to take a photo.
Just down the road, the highway was under some minor construction. Several construction workers were on the shoulder handling large steel cables, shoveling gravel and swinging picks in place of heavy equipment to break the hard concrete. The couple was forced off the shoulder and briefly into the road to avoid walking through the construction site. They were cautious of oncoming traffic and quickly passed the workers who stared at the couple with an intrigued look on their faces. Brent, with his white skin, made much more of an impact than his Mexican wife. As they stared, Brent said, "Hola!" in a very nonchalante manner to break the silence and akward moment.
The severity of the sun had gone unnoticed while walking on the shaded neighborhood streets but now that they were fully exposed on the open highway, it was quite different. They had only been walking for five minutes but the heat beating down on them and the radiation of the black road beneath their feet was cooking them on both ends. Leilani was carrying a bag full of clean clothes and handmade Mexican clay pottery her grandmother had insisted she take with her before leaving Mexico City. The heat was unbearable and she put on a sweater to protect her delicate skin from the sun. She tried desperately to cover her face, but the weight of the bag was straining her arm joints, forcing her to switch the bag from hand to hand every 60 seconds. Brent towered over her and she tried to walk in his shadow, but with little success due to the angle of the blinding rays. At no point along their journey did the highway have any sidewalks. The shoulder was paved but angled towards the edge of the road to direct water runoff to the hillside below. This made it very difficult to walk at any regular pace and the two were not making very good time. After a while of walking in silence his wife blurted out, "It's too hot to be out here. I want to go home." Brent lovingly responded, "Let's just keep going, we're almost there."
Sure enough, after about 25 minutes of walking they came upon the landmarks the security guard had told them about. It was the same underpass they had seen during their bus ride. They walked off the highway, down towards the underpass. Just on the other side of the pass was a small notice spray painted on the wall that read "Zippers," with an arrow pointing towards the back of the buildings. Brent asked, "Are you sure you want to eat here?" It was obvious that Leilani was frustrated with the whole ordeal and responed in a somewhat irritated tone, "Ya, ya me cansé." She mostly wanted to use the restroom, the water she had been drinking all along had taken its toll. Brent just wanted a cold beer and an ocean breeze.
Suprisingly, the quaint restaurant was very welcoming and quite clean. Established direcly on the beach, this was the destination they had been searching out. Brent plopped down in his chair and removed his socks and shoes beneath the table, while Leilani frantically searched for the restroom. After she returned and too sunk into her chair, their muscles relaxed and the cool ocean breeze blew over their faces. Everything around them told them to relax and take thing slow, but their massive miscalculation and misdirection, resulting in the trek on the highway had cost them precious time that they would no longer have to lounge on the beach. In fact they were already feeling somewhat frantic. "Where is the waitress," said Leilani. It was then Brent realized that she too was thinking about time. The restaurant staff was extremely friendly and attended them moments later. After asking the waitress the location of the closest bus stop to return to the airport, they calculated that they had a mere 30 minutes to enjoy their lunch and the ocean view.
After ordering they observed the other restaurant guests, consisting mostly of English speaking American tourists. Some had their children playing on the restaurnt provided playground and others came to have a short meal and drink after their golf excursion. Most had sun drenched skin, indicating that they were not from the area. Several men with black velvet lined display cases were selling jewelry on the beach. They had been looking for gifts to bring back to friends at home and Brent thought that perhaps they might have something adequate for his best friend's fiancé. The quality of the products was very cheap. Thin metal, supposedly silver, with unexciting designs filled the case. The recipient was very fond of animals and so they searched for some necklace or bracelet with such a theme. A butterfly necklace stood out and when asked the price, the man requested $15. Knowing that he had hundreds of these items, most likely purchased in bulk from China, Brent refused to pay such a price. They tried to strike a deal, but the man was insistant on his price and the couple decided not to pursue the purchase. As they returned to the table, the man made one last attempt with a lower price, but his customers had already lost interest.
Once their food arrived, they hurried through their meal, leaving them just enough time for a photo opportunity on the beach. Brent pulled the camera from his backpack and setup a shot with the mini tripod, asking Leilani to walk out into the water and onto the rocks to help him focus and center the photo. He set the timer and ran to meet his wife in the warm ocean water. "This is going to make a great photo in our 'Adventure Album' at home," Brent thought. They had kept a photo album of events, trips or moments that include photos only of them. He always made an effort to capture these moments because he knows their future value when the two of them are old and gray.
They quickly packed up their things and Brent cleaned the sand from his wife's feet before she put on her socks and shoes. As they made their way back through the restaurant and again onto the highway for a short jaunt to the bus stop, the cool marine air and ocean breeze dissipated into a sweltering heat.
As they waited at the bus stop, several cars, obviously riding together passed the couple. Brent's white skin stood out like an ink drop in a bowl of milk against the dark, sun kissed skin of the local riders. As they passed, they looked at Brent with a sinister grin, calculating the chances of valuables in his backpack. In fact, because there were no lockers or storage facilities in the airport, they had brought all of their valuables and remaining cash with them. The backpack was worth approximately $1400 in cash and prizes. Luckily the caravan drove on. "Watch for that car. If you see it again, let me know right away," he told his wife, trying not to alarm her. He would spend the next couple minutes surveying the surrounding area for escape routes, imagining what dangerous scenarios could arise and the instructions he would give his wife should if they did.
The couple began to get anxious, anticipating the return of the suspicious vehicles and worried that they would not have sufficient at the airport prior to their flight. The bus finally arrived and they confirmed with the driver that they could be transported to the airport. Brent asked how much the fare was for the two of them. "Fifteen pesos," said the driver. Leilani whispered to her husband, "See I told you that first bus driver was lying. Qué Cabrón!"
Drained from the sun, both found it difficult to stay awake. Brent secured the strap of the back back around his ankle, just in case he nodded off. But the anxiety that they weren't going to have sufficient time to make their flight kept him concsious. The lack of passengers on the returning trip allowed for a shorter ride and they arrived close to departure time, but still on schedule. Again the bus turned around at the airport and the couple found themselves at the spot where their adventure had started. They made their way across a small patch of desert landcape, Brent watching for possible rattlesnake encounters, and into the aiport parking lot. They rushed into the terminal and quickly began looking around for their gate to see if their flight was already boarding. Everyone was still lazily lounging around and things were just as they left them. The expressions of boredome on people's faces and how they avoided that gave Brent great satisfaction. Smiling at his wife Brent said, "See. We made it just on time." He knew that, had they missed their flight or even had a minor scramble to the airplane, it would be a long while before his wife approved any future adventures.
It was 30 minutes until their plane boarded and Leilani recounted their earlier mistake at the beginning of their vacation, running across the airport because of a last minute gate change. "Go ask the woman if this is the gate for our flight," she demanded of Brent. His pride told him that he was smart enough to know what gate their flight would be leaving from, but he hated to be wrong and to please his wife, he decided to ask the airline employee, "Is this the gate for the flight to San Francisco?" The woman asked to see the boarding pass, looked at the gate number behind her, and confirmed he was at the correct gate. Brent returned to his anxious wife and ensured her that although the gate signage currently referred to a flight to Los Angeles they were in fact in the correct location. "See, I told you," he said with an unnecessary attitude, just to make his point. Brent also checked the flight itineraries on the overhead monitors to see if their flight was running late. "On Time" was indicated next to their flight number. "We should be boarding any minute," he said.
Ten minutes had passed and the usual rustling and preparation of baggage and forming of lines was not occurring. The sign above gate 7 still clearly read, "Los Angeles" and this was making both Leilani and Brent very nervous. "Did we miss our flight!?!" Leilani worriedly questioned. "No, no, don't overreact. They just told us that this is the gate for our flight. Plus I still see that girl with my high school uniform over there. I'm sure she is on the same flight we are." Brent pointed across the terminal to where the girl was sitting. Leilani grabbed his hand and looked around to see if anyone noticed her husband. She did not like it when he pointed, making it obvious of what they were talking about. "But what if the lady is wrong? I don't want to pay for another flight!" Brent was beginning to get irritated with her incessant worrying.
If there was a problem or a conflict, he was raised to actively search for a solution, though he didn't always have the patience for it. For him worrying was a passive way of complaining and paralleled doing nothing but, he understood the cause of Leilani's worrisome demeanor. She was raised in a big city, where dishonesty and confusion could be around any corner. She was raised to always be cautious, always expect the worst and assume someone is trying to take advantage of her. Although they often argued along these lines, the two complimented each other nicely. Brent showed Leilani that sometimes you have to trust people and that there are people that care and genuinely wish to be helpful. Leilani taught him that sometimes you need to be cautious and investigate further before jumping into a situation.
When their boarding time was upon them, he knew the anxiety was only going to get worse and to preempt another of his wife's demands, Brent decided to go talk with another airline employee. "Our itinerary says that our flight should be boarding at this gate right now. Are we at the wrong gate?" Again, a man asked to see the boarding pass and again confirmed that this was their gate. "But your flight leaves at 3 o'clock," said the man impatiently. Brent looked at his watch, it was 3 o'clock. Then it hit him, although their flight was short, they had traversed two time zones. It was 1 o'clock. Red in the face, Brent felt both a sense of overwhelming embarrassment and ease that they were still on track. After their military paced marching, hurried lunch and stressful bus ride home, they still had 2 hours in the airport.
Hello,
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Cláudia Madureira