Bathroom Friendly

All the window shades were closed and seats reclined. Small fleece blankets draped over sleeping passengers. The entire airplane was dark except for the no smoking signs. I felt the plane circle as my head weighted towards the right side. It felt as if we were on our approach to land, and the lights beeped on along with the fasten seatbelt sign. We had been circling Lima airport for quite sometime when everyone was startled awake when the captain’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker to announce that we were not landing. The weather was too foggy, and it forced us to make an abrupt turn to the north and heading for Guayaquil, Ecuador. We would refuel in Guayaquil and then return to Lima when the fog cleared.

I walked up to the front where my new friend Jordan, the girl I met at Atlanta International Airport, was seated. We sat and talked about the flight and what her plans were after we landed. I knew we would not arrive in Lima until at least 3:30am, and having no desire to take a cab to some cheap hostel and be let off with nobody around, I did what any good traveler does when they are feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to make any real decisions for themselves: I asked if I could tag along.

Jordan was fluent in Spanish, and she also taught English in Trujillo. The company she worked for arranged a hotel for her in the affluent district of Mira Flores, and she offered to get me set up at the same hotel. Having travelled for more than 24 hours I just wanted some sleep, and I quietly hoped there would be an available room for me as well.

We landed in Guayaquil and sat on the runway for an hour while the plane refueled. Moments before the plane was about to take-off, the captain came on the intercom and said that the foggy weather had passed but the runway lights in Lima were no longer working. He mentioned that we would give it a try anyway and hopefully, with a bit of luck, by the time we reached Lima the runway lights would be working again. There's nothing like luck to make a passenger feel safe.

The flight went on and on, and on, and we circled Lima continuously before we eventually landed. We cleared customs without delay, and had the usual difficulty getting our luggage and gear - no dings. We made our way to a cab and the moment I stepped outside I could smell Lima. It doesn’t hit you at first. It's subtlte, with a hint of charred garbage.

We found a cab and Jordan haggled furiously while I stood thre and tried to look tough. The cabbie turned to me as if to say, “Can’t you reason with this woman? You’re the man. You should have the last say! ¨ But I just stood there searching for words. It takes a while for Spanish to come back to you, and at four o'clock in the morning I was useless. I tied my boards to the roof and off we went to Mira Flores.

Mira Flores is posh, but you have to pass through all the rougher parts of town in order to get there. To me it was a reminder of just how much a facade Mira Flores is and how it covers up the true amount of poverty in Peru. Seeing this amount of poverty invariably leads to guilty feelings due to my own excessive living.

We arrive at the hotel feeling slighty dazed and were greeted full on by the doorman, a bell-hop, and the concierge ensemble. My guilt-o-meter kicked up a notch when I asked for a room. The staff is more than friendly and happy to carry my bags, but I won’t let them lift a thing. It was already enough that I was staying somewhere beyond my means, not to mention most South American's means. Jordan was already checked in and we arranged to meet at breakfast, which was about 4 hours away.

I woke up in what seemed like merely a few seconds of rest and cracked my eyes open in the glaring sunlight, searching for that buzzing alarm. I stumbled down to breakfast and sat, surrounded by what I would call the elite of this city. I felt stares all around and was by no means dressed up or in proper attire. Everywhere I turned people wore suits and dresses. I looked up at the wait staff and as much as I’d like to say I identified with them more, I just felt completely out of place. My Ego led me to believe that I was different from other gringos, and that I could relate to the local people more so than others, but the reality is I’m just some white guy from a rich country who has had all the opportunities in the world, sitting alone in a posh hotel in Mira Flores with a cup of fruit salad and a pocket full of cash.

Jordan sat down next to me while I was about halfway through my fruit salad. We talked for a while, and she offered to help me purchase my plane ticket to Trujillo - the third largest city in Peru and the city closest to my final destination. Humbled, I nodded and thanked her for her generosity. We talked for a while longer, and agreed to share a cab to the airport.

We arrived at the airport later that day, and within 10 minutes Jordan had checked in and I was in possession of a ticket to Trujillo. "See you in Trujillo", I said, and thanked her for all of her help. To be quite honest, it was an uneventful goodbye as she turned and walked away, leaving me smiling and standing there, alone in the airport surrounded by strangers, in a country far from home. One step closer….