The Mexico Trip (The Gory Details)

Divi-Divi airlines. (No, these don't fly to Miami.)

I've mentioned before that traveling from Curaçao is never a simple matter... It can be, if you're going to Caracas or Bogotá. Or Miami. Or Amsterdam. Or Dominican Republic. Or Bonaire. Or St. Maarten. Or Aruba. Or, nowadays—thank you, JetBlue!—New York City.

But not Mexico.

To the point that once I received an itinerary from a travel agent helping me with my trip (this was years ago, before online booking caught on) suggesting that I travel from Curaçao—in the Caribbean—to Mexico—North America—via Charles de Gaulle. Yeah. The Paris airport. You know. Paris, Europe.

(That's a good story. Remind me to tell it to you some day.)

After experimenting over the years with different routes (I've yet to try the Paris one), I have found that the most efficient less time-consuming one is via Miami, and with American Airlines. I know, who wants to fly AA? But it's the only airline flying to both Curaçao and Mexico. If there's a delay, they'll put me on another flight or somehow make it right, not give me the world-famous Not My Problem, Sweetie shrug.

It does imply a long layover in Miami. I've spent ten hours there. So you can imagine how happy I felt when I checked flights and realized I could leave Curaçao in the afternoon and still have just enough time to make the MIA-MEX connection. It might be a little tight, especially if Immigration was busy, but it would probably work.

Turned out I never should've worried. Because my flight to Mexico WAS DELAYED.

For FOUR hours.

Sure, it sucks to have to spend more time at such a crappy airport, but no big deal, right? Instead of arriving in Mexico at 11 pm, I'd now arrive sometime around 2 am (times got iffy, because it was the day Mexico ended Daylight Savings Time).

No, no big deal—except for one thing. Mexico City is not my final destination. At the Mexico City airport, right at the arrivals hall, I take a bus down to Cuernavaca, which is where my mom lives.

And the last bus departs at 12:30 am.

No, there's no other way to get to Cuernavaca. Except by taxi, which is 1) really expensive, and 2) probably not the safest choice.

So I had to spend the night at the airport. There's a Hilton right inside the Arrivals hall, and they did have rooms available. (I called them from Miami.)

Terminal 2 at Mexico City Airport
(2009)

I got a good night's sleep, woke up incredibly late the next morning—damn blackout curtains—and made it home to Mom at around 3 pm.

Mission accomplished. Well, half the mission. I still had to get back to Curaçao. And if I thought I was done with the worst of the traveling, I was really, really wrong.

If you're arriving into Mexico City during the day, this is what you'll see.
Bring your gas masks.

How do these posts get so long so fast? Okay, I'll leave off here and take up the story next week, after BoTB. It'll be a very cool Battle, sort-of synced with Lee's—and if you haven't read that intro/reveal post over at Tossing It Out, please take a hop over now and do so... It was a wonderful experiment, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

So. See you Sunday for some musical brawling, and next week—let's say Wednesday?—for Part II of the Traveling Blues :D

Thanks for the visit!