Thursday, 10 November 2022: Back to Colorado with Minimal Hassle

My ol’ friend, John Dunham, from my undergrad days at Ohio State U., is very skilled with Photoshop.  He took the photo from my first Cuba blog post, replaced the ball cap with a Che Guevara beret, and lit my cigar.  All that’s missing are an AK-47, cartridge belt, and the commitment to lay my ass on the line for some revolutionary cause.

I’m up at 4:45 AM.  The taxi will be here in an hour as I want to be at the airport three hours before my flight.  Maybe a bit of overkill but I’m not taking any chances.  I take a quick shower, get dressed, and take my stuff out to the lounge at 5:40.  There is no wifi this morning so I can’t get an update on the status of my flights or Hurricane Nicole.  As always, I’m nervous about early morning taxis showing up and getting me to my flights on time. 

Javier, the host at Balcones, is sitting with me in the lounge.  He says I should stay here rather than go down to the street to wait for the taxi.  At 5:45, the taxi has not arrived.  When it doesn’t arrive by 5:50, I’m ready to start biting my nails.  At 5:52, Javier gets a call.  The taxi is downstairs at the door waiting.  Javier helps me get my stuff down to the door.  Wow!  It’s a green, 4-door, 1953 Chevy in nice shape. 

As we head off on our half-hour-plus trip to the airport, the cabbie is very talkative.  I notice that he speaks very clear Spanish for a Cuban and I understand almost everything he says.  We talk about the usual – how U.S. sanctions make life hard for Cubans and haven’t succeeded in bringing down the government in more than 60 years.  I’m impressed at how intelligent and knowledgeable this guy is, especially in regard to U.S. politics.  Traffic is light and our progress is as good as can be expected considering we have to stop at enumerable unsynchronized traffic lights.  I notice that my taxista drives the old Chevy very carefully shifting gears smoothly.

Near the end of the ride, I learn that my driver’s name is David (pronounced “DAA veed” in Spanish) and is 55.  I comment favorably about his extensive knowledge of politics and so forth.  “You must be well-educated, right?”  Yes, he is.  Get this – he got a degree in aeronautical engineering in Russia and speaks Spanish, Italian, and Russian.  There are no jobs for aeronautical engineers so he drives a cab to support his family.  Once again, I’m reminded of the dysfunctionality of the Cuban government and economy and the ridiculous injustice of highly-educated people driving taxis to earn a decent income.

After our arrival at José Martí International Airport, I get a photo of David standing proudly next to his Chevrolet.  There is a large group of people already standing in front of the departure door.  David assures me that it’s probably a charter flight group.  So, me and my stuff walk up to the door and I ask an official-looking guy where the line is for Southwest.  David was right – there is no line and he tells me to go on in.  

When I get to the Southwest check-in, there is a board showing the status of departures.  The 9:20 AM flight to Fort Lauderdale is listed as ON TIME.  WHEW!  There are only a couple people ahead of me in line.  I had expected a mob scene.  Check-in is easy.  When I get to immigration, I can’t find the Cuban visa that’s supposed to be with my passport (I later find it in a plastic back with a photocopy of my passport).  No hay problema – the agent has my information in her computer.  She takes my photo to assure it matches the one they took of me on my arrival 19 days ago.  

Getting through security is no problem either, and I hang in the departure lounge while reading my book, El Insaciable Hombre Araña (The Insatiable Spiderman).  I’m still wondering if the plane coming in from Fort Lauderdale will be delayed by the hurricane.  At about 8:30, a Southwest jet pulls up to the terminal.  This has to be my plane as there are no earlier Southwest arrivals listed on the “arrivals” board.  Yes, this is my plane and we load early.  I get a good window seat right in front of the wing and facing away from the sun in the southeastern sky.  The plane leaves right on time.  There are puffy clouds but no rain.  I shoot a bunch of photos while waving adios to Havana and Cuba.

 

We arrive in Fort Lauderdale a few minutes early.  There are thick clouds to the north but Nicole has already passed through central Florida and will have no effect on flights in and out of Fort Lauderdale.  When I get to U.S. Customs and Immigration, the agent asks the purpose of my trip to Cuba.  “Support for the Cuban people,” I reply confidently parroting what my friends, Maggie and Marc had advised me to say.  Then he asks if I’m bringing back any alcohol or tobacco products.  They don’t seem to be checking bags, so I say “no”, not mentioning the three cigars wrapped up in a plastic baggie and stuffed in a shoe in my backpack.  That’s it – I’m through with officialdom, off to check my bag on United, and then on to the United Club where I show them the free entry pass I received after signing up for a new United credit card recently.  My United flight to Denver doesn’t leave for another three hours.  I had planned it this way to make sure I wouldn’t miss the flight if there were delays in leaving Havana.  The club has a small buffet and I pile my plate high with lettuce and other raw veggies not having had a real salad for nearly three weeks. 

The United flight is uneventful and my bag arrives at the Denver carrousel in plenty of time to catch my Denver Sky Ride bus to the Park and Ride three miles from my house.  Judy picks me up there and I get home for a well-earned meal and sleep after a very long day.  I have returned with lots of stories to share.     

© Will Mahoney 2022

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