Day 0 - How it all started

How it all began. The story before the story. The prequel to Mission: Brazil if you so choose.

Everything started out great... the first leg of my trip was leaving at 6:30 from Boston to Miami so we had to be at the airport at 4:30, which meant leaving at 3:30, which meant getting up at 3:00... no thank you, I'll just stay up until 3. What I hadn't quite thought through all the way was that this realistically meant that I was staying up until 7:00, after the plane took off. It didn't work anyway, and I ended up falling asleep for an hour and a half before we left. With a stop for coffee and a bagel on the way to the airport to keep me fueled up, and we made it at least relatively on time. I had checked my ticket, and checked it again, I was leaving on Delta, so we pulled into the the Delta terminal and mom and I said our goodbyes and I walked in to wait in line... and wait... and wait... and wait and wait and wait. Eventually I got to the front of the line, breathed a sigh of relief and handed the nice ticket lady my freshly printed travel info.

"Sir, this flight is American Airlines." She said calmly, shattering my sense of calm and bringing my brain to a screeching halt.

"Well, uh... Where's American?" I stammered through the tired.

"Terminal C, up those stairs, follow the signs." She said, indicating a large set of stairs all the way across the terminal.

"I've got 45 minutes to my flight... If I'm in terminal A, then terminal C is... probably pretty f#$%ing far away." I thought to myself, breaking into a flat out run, as fast as I could dragging a 50 pound suitcase and carrying a 15 pound carry on bag and a laptop case slung over my shoulder. I ran up the escaltor, down a corridor, along a moving walkway, down an escaltor, along another corridor with another moving walkway, this one not working, all the way following cryptic signs directing me toward terminal C. Just when I had given up hope of ever finding the mystical Terminal C, I came around a corner and there I was... With a HUGE line in front of me. Luckily one of the employees was looking for passengers to Miami and happened to call out. I raised my hand and he rushed me through the baggage checking process. This guy is my personal travel savior. If not for him, there's NO way I would have made the flight to Miami.

After I got to the ticket desk, the man behind the counter asked where I was going and I replied "Miami".

"And then where?" He asks, his eyes like probes.

"Uhh... Brazil."

"Well, I have to ticket your bags to your final destination."

"But its on a different airline and I didn't buy the tickets together." Talking more to myself, trying to figure out how he knew I was going to Brazil until I realized that homeland security probably knows when I go number 2. I had assumed I would have to pick up my bags in Miami and then check them again on the way to Brazil.

"Sir, I have to ticket your bags for their final destination." His face is stern.

"Ok, fine, whatever." I reply, sure that I'm never going to see my bags again but even surer that if I don't hurry, I'll never make my flight. Anyway, through security and made it to my gate just in time to get at the end of the line for last call for boarding. It's all about the timing...

After I made it to Miami, I was stuck for hours, so I bought a wifi day pass, sat on the floor, plugged into a wall socket on a column in the middle of the check-in area and talked to Ana online. Finally, 4 hours later, TAM's check-in desk opened and I checked in, and made my way through security. I got hungry at this point, but there was nothing but a crappy sandwich shop selling food once you got through to the gates... I bought one of the sandwiches, which came with a small portion of potato salad, and a water, which was lukewarm. I finished the small sandwich and, still hungry, decided to chance the potato salad. It wasn't that tasty, but I was hungry and it was helping. It was a decision that I would quickly come to regret, as fifteen minutes later I was doubled over with stomach pain. I then spent the next couple of hours trying not to let anyone know that I thought I was dying. After I got on the plane I was so tired that I fell asleep for an hour and when I woke up I felt, well not great but at least didn't think I was going to die.

The international leg of my journey was actually not bad at all. All of the attendents on the TAM flight spoke english to some degree, they served a meal on the flight, and even served sandwiches on the two short domestic hops (Manaus to Belem and Belem to Fortaleza) once we got into Brazil. They provided pillows, blankets, and even small pouches with toothbrush, toothpaste, and a black mask so we could sleep. Even more helpful on the quest for sleep, the fact that I had been up for over 20 hours already with nothing but a few brief naps. I drifted in and out of sleep and studied my Portuguese for Dummies book when I could manage to focus for more than 5 minutes at a time without getting a headache.

Finally, we landed in Fortaleza and I was just looking forward to hugging and kissing Ana for the first time in months and getting to lie down and pass out for a few hundred years. However, the customs officials had other ideas. There was actually no one working yet at 6:30am when we got in, and we had to wait until 7 for the guy to show up. Ana would later say that she saw a customs official walking in, a half hour after my plane landed and got worried because I hadn't come out yet. The actual passport process was fine though, they took the sheet I had filled out and handed the carbon copy to me. After I got my bags, I had to go through customs, which essentially was some guy asking if I had anything to declare and me saying no. After that, I finally got to the hugging and kissing and eventually the passing out.