On my way to a delay and a carny too.

I was sweating not just because it was Arkansas in May and I had cut off my air, nor because I had just scrubbed some unidentifiable substance from the bottom of my fridge, but because my Passport was no where in sight and my plane was scheduled to leave in 7 hrs. I’m a seasoned traveler in this country, but I have only made short jaunts across our border to Mexico and Canada. So three months in Argentina was weighing heavy on my mind.

Despite my best intentions I had not learned Spanish before I left. I had acquired numerous teaching aids from friends, the internet and friends, on the internet; however I didn’t use them. I was trying to will myself to learn the language; I stubbornly told myself “you will learn Spanish” on my way to trivia night, during latter golf, and on trips to Whole Hog BBQ “You will learn Spanish”. My mantra didn’t work. I don’t think my French teacher was honest with me in sixth grade when she said I would be a natural at Spanish. I think she was just tired of me sword fighting my friends with baguettes. Since sixth grade I have had, on and off, seven years of Spanish, my joke is I made it through as Sí student (Because that’s all I learned to say). So seven hours before the flight I was a little bit nervous about the language. I took some solace in my mastery of charades though.

Another concern was that my project was not very well defined. The Language Experienced had mentioned something about a Food Bank, a School in the Salta, and an Adoptive Grandparent program. Although I had never been a parent let alone an adoptive grand parent, these things all fell with in the spectrum of my life experience. But, the question was what can I do with these organizations that they couldn’t do for themselves? My stubborn optimism told me that at least I would be entertaining. Who doesn’t love the social faux-pas of a fish out of water? Well, the fish probably.

I had posted everyone at school on high alert for my passport; I had also made phone calls to Senator Pryor’s office. Though I was tense, I had faith that the passport would be there. I was scrubbing off a melted glob of cheese (that in its molten phase had dripped of a plate of nachos) from my stove when my cell phone rang, it was Liz at the school my passport was there. I didn’t believe it at first. Then a sense off calm descended over me. It was time to get my service on. Argentina, here I come! I quickly finished cleaning my apartment (not really) and headed out to the school.

Five hours later I was in the Airport bar having my last Pint of Diamond Bear India Pale Ale for three months. I had my passport wrapped around my neck my ticket in my hand and my Spanish books in my new courier bag. It took me three days to pick out a bag, I felt a little like a manly goldilocks, but this one was not too big, not too small it was just right. I had this courier bag sitting on my small table and I was deliberately avoiding reading my Spanish books when I heard it. THUNDER. I stopped starring at the wall mounted T.V. and twisted my neck to look out the window. The sky was as grey as a well used chalk board eraser. My gut told me I wasn’t going to make it to Argentina today.

I had to try. I ran to the terminal and got in line. I finagled a bump to the next flight leaving to Dallas. It was 5:50 before the plane would board, and my connecting flight to Argentina boarded at 6:50. The chance I would make my connection was slim, but the timing of my passport made me feel lucky. I had bought the ticket I would take the ride. The flight was longer then expected because of storms. Before, landing I asked the flight attendant to please call the ground to hold my plane. The old man assured me he couldn’t. I then began using my powers of persuasion (Think nails on a chalkboard). This didn't help. We taxied then waited a half hour to get a gate.

When I ran to the terminal where my flight would have been, I had no doubt I had missed it. I was just hoping beyond hope that another passenger had gone crazy on the tarmac. Not crazy in a hurt people kind of way, but just stark raving mad enough to have to turn around and remove them. Unfortunately everyone on the plane had been sane and they were on their way to Buenos Aires.

I tried again to use my power of persuasion to get a free hotel room (Think Bull in a China Shop). The airlines claimed the missed connection was due to weather not the 30 minutes spent waiting to offload. But, they made a phone call and got me a distressed passenger rate at a motel 8. I don’t think I was distressed but I’m pretty sure American Airlines was done talking to me.

I made contact briefly with my Argentinian contact using my Skype phone, I sent an E-mail to John Hill ,and accepted my fate. I walked across the street from the motel 8 To a Joe’s Crab Shak. I met a very intoxicated carny named Steve. He claimed that he wrestled a bear and a kangaroo as part of a sideshow. I ordered fish and chips. And he put his foot up on the bar to show me where the bear had bitten of part of his foot. He definitely had a large mass of scar tissue on his foot but whether this was caused by a bear or not I didn't know. It however seemed possible. He asked me if I wanted to go see him wrestle his bear and kangaroo. I told him I would next time I was in Dallas. Once he began talking about how he punished the bear and would cut it with the knife in his pocket, I decided it was a good time for me to finish my dinner and leave. Steve noticed my attitude change and assured me he loved his bear and kangaroo. I just nodded and got up to leave. As I paid my bill, the bartender leaned over the bar and said “that’s my cousin” and pointed to the carny “It doesn’t matter whether its 9a.m.or 9p.m. he’s always the same-drunk and bragging about his bear". I doubted I would ever really see Steve wrestle his bear. As I quickly walked back to my hotel I wondered if they have carnies in Argentina.

Warning change in tense!

I’m in the Airport starting my blog my plane loads in three hours. I realize there is a lot to see and learn in the world. Even in Dallas-I never really considered cruelty to animals as one of my focal issues. But, human beings are interesting animals and when they feel abused, they often take it out on those around them. Sometimes even bears. We’ll talk to you again soon.