Leaving Iquitos

Ok, I get it. You want an update.

Time to move on. I put all my stuff in my bag, paid my hotel bill and confirmed the price of transport to the airport. The mototaxi driver jumped on me a like a tegu lizard on a rat, but the only person I know would know what the hell that means is my son Mark. The mototaxi headed west as though we were being shot at, crossing the meridian, swerving through on coming traffic. A bus hopped the meridian, knocking down a palm tree in the process. Pretty women, two at a time on motorcycles in front of me, next to me on each side and two behind me.

After half an hour I got to the airport and handed the driver a ten. He gave me a big grin. I stuck out my hand "Necesito cambiar dos sols". Sorry piece of trash tried to rip me off last night, he was getting no tip. "El tarriff es de diez sole." I grabbed the money, I think that even in front of the cops he thought I was I about to waste him. “You little cocksucker, you are trying to rip me off again.” It was only about seventy cents but it is the point of the thing. I fished out some coins and gave him eight sols and told him to shove them up his ass.

The lady at the ticket counter told me it is not possible to fly today. Maybe tomorrow. What does this mean? I looked in my wallet. Bills in three currencies. I finally convinced her to sell me a ticket. I have no idea. Maybe I should record the audio of these transactions; others may be able to help me figure out what went wrong. Bill where is my iphone?

She took my credit card and passport and went away for half an hour. Through a door and disappeared. What the hell? Finally she returned with a boarding pass and a credit card receipt. Then she disappeared again. No other staff for the airline was in sight. Umm, I need to check my bag and I am getting really tired of this shit.

I waited another half an hour then I got pissed and stepped over the scale that weighed the bags and entered the bowels of the airport. I thought that maybe I could provoke security into assisting me but they just watched me enter the secure zone and stood there, scratching their asses and watching.

I have been cheered and jeered for my expectation of reasonable customer service. My kids are no longer surprised but they are seldom amused when I walk through a restaurant, pass through the employees only door and tell the cook, who is chatting up the waitress sitting on the counter that if you could just cook my dinner I would eat it and go. Now I know why it is better to just leave. He has nothing better to do, now I've pissed him off and he is preparing on the other side of a wall, something I am about to eat.

A loud knock on an unmarked office door elicited a response from a dour, slight old man. This guy could not have weighed more than eighty pounds. "¿Dónde está la oficina de LAN?" LAN is the airline that just took my money. He looked up at me at pointed down the hall. A sturdy knock on that door got a very rapid response but I was advised that I couldn't check my bag until 9:55. Ok, maybe there is a way out of this. Don't get pissed.

Ok then, let me find a place to eat and get a cup of coffee. Oh yeah, Peru, the land of instant coffee. Am I whining? The cafeteria consisted of four dirty tables and a very dismal shelf holding god knows what, wrapped in banana leaves. It turned out to be chicken in rice. The chef was very accomplished; it is not easy to dry out chicken so that it has about as much moisture as chalk.