Gettin’ Carried Away

After spending a beautiful week in Mexico, I’m back home in Chicago, where the wind dies down and the humidity skyrockets during the summer. I am going to take a break from posting about Mexico to tell you a little about my experience flying home using Delta Airlines, connecting at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.

My flight from Puerto Vallarta to Atlanta was pretty typical. Long lines, full flight, free water/soft drinks. When we landed in Atlanta, however, everything fell apart.

The pilot claimed we were 40 minutes early. According to his announcement (about three hours earlier), we we were to arrive in Atlanta in exactly… you guessed it… three hours. I remember checking my watch, and it was 2 p.m. in Mexico. When we landed in Atlanta, I promptly turned my phone on to discover it was 5:50 p.m. Atlanta is an hour ahead of Mexico (and Chicago), so we were actually 10 minutes ahead of schedule, not 40.

We waited on the runway for about 30-40 minutes for a gate to open up. I remember my mother telling me that ATL Airport was the biggest in the country, and she wasn’t joking. When I finally got off the plane and arrived at customs, the line was (I’m not kidding) a mile long. I’d say at least 100-200 passengers missed their connections. However, the customs agents were efficient at putting people through; after all foreigners entered through their designated lines, U.S. citizens were allowed to step into the Foreign Visitor lines to speed up the customs process.

~* I was so busy, I didn’t have time for photos! *~

I finally made it past customs around 8 p.m. I checked the monitors and saw that my plane was already at the gate and we would be boarding in less than an hour. Knowing I didn’t have a seat assignment yet, I grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch/dinner (I hadn’t eaten all day) and then headed to the gate. When I got to the gate, there was no ticket agent to be found, but I did see three flight attendants sitting in the corner.

A man, who I assumed was the pilot, kept peeking his head outside the jetway, looking a bit confused. I thought he might be looking for the ticket agent or the flight attendants. At 8:55 p.m., when we should have been boarding, someone alerted the flight attendants to the man constantly poking his head out of the door. One of the flight attendants walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. I overheard a conversation that sounded like the ticket agents were waiting INSIDE the plane with the pilot for the flight attendants. The flight attendant said that she and her colleagues were waiting OUTSIDE for them to come out of the plane and give them clearance to go in. A big miscommunication between Delta employees delayed our flight by 45 minutes.

I will openly admit it: I have a brand loyalty when it comes to airlines. I always choose Southwest first and foremost. Mostly because of the cheap airfare, but also for the free checked baggage. If Southwest doesn’t fly where I need to go, I pick American Airlines.

Do you have airline brand loyalty? Have you had a bad experience with Delta? How do you maintain patience in a crazy busy airport like Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta?

Chapala is actually not one of the first places I visited in Mexico. However, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I left my camera cord at home, so I want to hold off on posting about some cities until I get my pictures uploaded on my computer. After a few days, I finally remembered that my iPhone takes pretty good photos, so I snapped this amazing shot of Lake Chapala earlier this afternoon.

While there are a lot of Mexican residents in Chapala, the city is also home to many American and Canadian retirees. Some of the B&B’s and hotels are even owned by foreigners. And speaking of hotels, Lake Chapala Inn, which overlooks the beautiful lake pictured above, costs about $45 a night. What. A. Steal.

I have to admit, the cobble-stoned streets of Chapala lose their charm after awhile, once you’ve been driving over the bumps for about 10 minutes or so. Walking is the way to go in this town; you’ll find quaint shops and affordable restaurants, but I think the lake is really the place to be.

In 1956 and 2003, due to a lack of rain, the people of Chapala feared the loss of this gorgeous body of water. Today, it stands about eight meters close to the shore and about 17-20 meters near the two islands out in the middle of the lake. City workers are renovating the beachfront, adding boardwalks and patching up old stonework. All the renovations are expected to be finished by December 2009. They have already come a long way, so I highly recommend visiting Chapala any time you like!

You read it right… Mexicanada. Surprise! I am in Guadalajara, Mexico. As I promised to do some blogging about my trip, I plan to do just that. However, I forgot my camera cord at home (egad!), so I will be telling you some great anecdotes until I am able to post some nice photos (along with Mexican recommendations) from my trip here this week.

You’re probably wondering… what the heck is Mexicanada? It’s a word I made up to describe a particular encounter I’ve had here in Guadalajara. I met a fellow journalist named Rick who is a Canadian national that has been to 39 U.S. states and 61 countries… and counting. Many of his tales are just mind-blowing, but nothing beats the old “parkade” story.

~* Photo courtesy of flyingserpent.net *~

While driving to one of the many destinations we’ve seen here in Guadalajara, a few of us were making conversation about Microsoft Word. Rick explained that he was annoyed with it not recognizing certain words, like parkade, for example. I thought he said “parquet” (as in flooring), and I told him that if you right click the word you can add it to the dictionary. Dorothy, a very inquisitive San Francisco journalist, heard him say “parkade,” called him out right away and asked “What the heck is a parkade?” Rick simply answered, “A place to park cars,” thinking we should know that already. We all started laughing, as we had never heard of that expression before. Our trip leader, Carolina, later admitted she had no idea what he was talking about at first, but didn’t want to say anything.

If you have read one of my older posts from February, you will know that I love languages. I think it’s kind of funny that I’ve come to Mexico, and I’ve learned a Canadian expression. Lesson learned: You never know what you’re going to learn when you are on a trip.