Airports.

I want to sort out my two days in Lima here ... but I have to take off for my crazy endless Chile bus ....... so, I give you ... my Airport Story:

When I arrive to the airport in Puerto Maldonaldo at 11 in the morning for my 12:40 flight, the line is short. I´m grateful.

In Cusco, LAN had cancelled two flights but hadn´t had the sense to seperate the queues of people ... so I was stuck anxiously watching the time behind dozens of people who weren´t going anywhere that day ... but all still had to argue with the staff. It was nerve-wracking. I kept pleading with guards in Spanish who moved me from line to line still behind all of the flight-cancelled people with no order at all (I swear this to you) and I barely caught my plane with 5 minutes to spare.

So in Puerto, even though it only HAS two airlines it´s so tiny and I make sure to arrive with almost 2 hours this time, the short lines make me sigh with relief. Until 25 minutes into watching the little kids run around me, I realize that they aren´t moving. At all.

The man in front of me is getting antsy. He moves up, talks in Spanish, comes back, and moves up again with his bags to crowd the desk and stays there. I glance nervously at the people behind me. And them at me.

I start looking around for somebody in a jacket who might be important. I still have almost an hour to meander through the surely extremely relaxed security, but still. What is going on?

A man in a tee-shirt approaches me (he looks like a guide, maybe). He asks me when my flight is ... and I tell him today, at 12:40. His face is suddenly intense concern. I´m in for it.

(I´m going to put our spanish conversations in italics ...)

You have to go up to the front. Now.

I look around. All of the receptionists are busy but he ushers me urgently with his hands and I try to get a handle on my very heavy bags to sidle awkwardly up to make myself counter space.

A man turns to me. They´ve closed the flight.

I don´t even understand the term. Closed? How is a flight closed? Cancelled, yes. Closed, no. What the hell? Did they lose the keys to the cockpit or something?

I give him a funny look, so he tells me the same sentence more slowly. Right, great. He tries again.

There are no more seats.

No more seats? I´m baffled. I hold up my ticket. No, I tell him, I have a seat, it´s okay.

I hand my ticket to the receptionist who asks me if I´ve checked in. It seems like a weird question ... isn´t that what I´m doing right now? I tell her yes, just for good measure.

She accepts this, scans my ticket and then looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

I´m sorry, you can´t board. The flight is closed. There are no seats left.

I´m completely confused. No, this is my ticket. I bought it weeks ago. I. Paid. For. It. My receipt is here ... I flew HERE like this. How is the flight closed?

She pushes me aside and looks for the next customer. Confused, I let her look but don´t move from my spot. My tour guide friend finds me.

They´ve sold too many tickets. It´s not your fault, but you´re too late and they don´t have seats now. You have to be insistent now and talk really, really fast if you want to get on the plane.

Right. Easy for you to say. I take a deep breath.

Excuse me, miss, but you cannot keep me off of this plane. I am boarding. I have to get on. I must be in Lima. It´s urgent. I have a bus waiting for me that I paid 400 soles for and I can´t miss it. My dad is going to be in Buenos Aires and he doesn´t speak Spanish and I have to be there. This is not my fault. I will board this plane.

I´m as intently urgent as I know how.

Another employee asks when my bus leaves.

Tomorrow. A lie. My bus leaves the day after. The immediate smoothness of the lie terrifies me a little. But outwardly, I don´t even flinch. I latch on. My bus leaves tomorrow and I paid a lot of money. I must get to Lima today.

They look at me nervously. I put my baggage on the scale and stare at them.

You will let me on the plane. You have sold a ticket that is mine. This is not my fault. It is robbery. I am flying today.

The tour guide looks at ME nervously now and tries to tell me to calm down. But I am feeling something else too- besides anxiety about the plane. Travelling, you get the sense that everybody is discriminating against you because you´re foreign. I mean, when taxis and shopkeepers try to charge you triple rate, it´s a fair sense. But other times you are so frusterated, you are sure that it is Us and Them no matter what. I was sure suddenly that the moment I walked up to the counter, that lady saw me and decided that a tall, blonde foreigner was not worth the effort.

That is what makes me angry.

I stare at the airline lady. She is intently clicking on the computer now. Good, because being so argumentative has brought me close to tears. As much as I am determined to get on the plane, I will not cry, I tell myself.

I will give you a standby ticket, she says. You will go into the lobby and wait to see if there is any space.

No. I tell her. I am flying. No standby. I point to my baggage on the scale. Put that on the plane.

Another man comes up to fight the same battle I am fighting. He holds out his cell phone with, presumably, somebody on the other end to yell at this woman. Who, in all other circumstances, I would feel deeply sorry for ... but right now I am sure that she is snobby and aloof and if she had a choice, she would keep me off just to spite me.

I impatiently watch her argue on the phone.

I have never been this mad at somebody in public. Ever.

Ten minutes later, after more circular arguing, she produces a ticket. I take it quickly. I have no more than 10 minutes to be boarded now. With the help of my guide friend, I run to pay my taxes, slam through security, and dump my backpack in the ... peaceful long line waiting to board the plane.