The good olde US of A… – days 298-299

You would think that leaving Costa Rica (one of the most western Central American countries) and heading to the good olde US of A would have been easy compared to what we had endured at some parts of the adventure.

You would be wrong.


Firstly getting to the airport was slowed by the fact that the Costa Rican football team were arriving home. The atmosphere all over the capital was electric, this was the furthest they had progressed EVER, and everyone was out to welcome them home. But the real fun and games didn’t happen until I arrived in Fort Lauderdale airport.

You might remember the fun I had at American immigration in January. Naturally I assumed it would have been flagged on the system and had resided myself to some delays. I had not expected three hours to get out of the airport after landing. After telling the gentleman in immigration all about January I waited around until they decided once again, yes it was me on my passport.

Then I went to baggage reclaim where people were queued around the whole room to file through customs one by one. Another 45 minutes to get to the front and naturally my rucksack was the most exciting thing that had happened all day for the sniffer dog. Quite a few people have questioned that I was not nervous at that point, but I wasn’t, I was annoyed. Of course this was going to happen to me. So, of course, the guy who emptied my rucksack in front of me didn’t catch my best side. Instead he caught my inclination towards sarcasm as he failed to grasp; my being in Costa Rica twice in the last 2 weeks, my travelling alone, my travelling at all, the state of my passport, and of course that I hadn’t been “smoking” with everyone else in the hostel the night before. After a pat down in a padded room with two women (who failed to find the $40 in my bra) I was free to go. Free to get the bus in the rain to my hostel. Free to miss the second bus. Free to pay for an expensive taxi, and free to get ripped off at my hostel.

Boy was I happy to see a bed.


The next day was the final leg to Vancouver, and it was less eventful. After one last morning on a beach I flew to Dallas. Wandered around the ginormous airport, and boarded the plane back to Canada.


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