We flew down to Cabo using Volaris, a Mexican national airline. It was terrific for the most part. Took a bus from the Sante Fe Train station in San Diego to the airport in Tijuana and jumped down to Cabo del San Jose. Captain Ritter was a fishing guru, Don Pedro of Zac was full of magic energy as he mined the deep tracks, the food, the sudoku, the yoda! Great trip. Friendship, beach walks, fishing... so sweet.
We did have a bit of an adventure returning to Tijuana.
Our bags were searched at the Volaris counter and our tuna was seized. Apparently the only acceptable way to transport atune is sealed in a portable cooler. For a moment I thought the tamales were going to go as well. The tamale lady in the plaza at San Jose Del Cabo is an artist. The best tamales in the world... (losing the tuna and the tamales would have dropped me to my knees.)
I was ready to walk away from the tuna. Indeed after it was all out there on the table, pulled from our bags and unveiled from the soggy newspaper I pushed it all towards the security team and told them to enjoy. I was ready to take the tamales and run.
Then I heard a sound like the whistle on a boiling teapot and noticed the steam coming out of Jan's coiffure. One look at her eyes and I knew I needed to just get the hell out of the way.
I retired from the negotiations and Jan took over.
She fought harder at the airport for the tuna than I did catching it.
Jan talked to everyone. I was ready to quit in the face of sad eyed rejection. Not Jan.
She took off across the airport and attempted to buy coolers from anyone who had them. I chased after her, worried about the plane leaving. No coolers were to be found. So she went to all the food places asking folks for help. No help. She finally found a large ice-chest at one of the restaurants and cajoled the staff with offers of BIG PESOS! No luck, they were all afraid of loosing their jobs by selling the restaurant equipment to la gringa loca. One young girl got her older brother to explain to Jan that it just couldn't be done. Many shrugs and shaking heads.
I threw in the towel for about the fourth time, pointed to the time and muttered we were going to miss our plane. On our way back to the departure lounge we passed heavily armed soldiers. I could see them wince and back up as Jan stalked by.
It was then that Jan started getting stubborn.
As I fretted over the time, Jan wove her way though the crowd to the Volaris desk where we'd left the tuna. It was now sitting in a trash basket still wrapped in newspaper. She told them we'd bought a cooler and it was waiting at the metal detector in the boarding area. The Volaris folks said we couldn't take the tuna from the check in area. Our plane was leaving in 10 minutes! Much pleading, many gestures, shrugs, nervous looks. Tick-tock. I could see from everyone's faces that they were just going to shrug until our plane took off.
Finally the security folks suggested Jan talk with a fellow at the next counter. The main security guard stalked off and Jan went to work on the next guy down the line. Turns out he didn't work for Volaris and had no power at all. He worked for the next airline down the isle and had made the mistake of inserting himself in the negotiations.
All he could do was offer a sheepish grin and shrug his shoulders.
Jan asked him if we could just stuff the tuna in the carry on and take it the next security checkpoint.
All he could do was shrug. ( I think he was worried about catching a purse upside the head.)
So, we stuffed all the remaining tuna (three bags had already walked off) into our big carry on bag and hustled out of there leaving a trail of damp gringo gazettes. I tried not to list carrying the bag it must have been double overweight.
Once we were lost in the crowd, we skated through the metal detectors luckily tuna doesn't register on their machines, just belt buckles. No one even blinked at the wire stuffed electronic tense box on Jan's hip.
After that it was clear sailing. No problema on the flight. Bus ride was fine (and very fast). INS Border lines were short for those on the bus and we cleared the US customs without a hitch. A sad eyed guy asked me for my birth certificate. I told him what happened and he just shrugged and passed me through. (They didn't even ask if we had anything to declare).
Erin picked us up at the Sante Fe terminal in town. We had Tamales at her house, watched the Pittsburg / Ravens game and drove home.
Kyle had taken down the Christmas tree and cleaned the house. Unlike previous years we didn't find bald cats, a green pool, or any obvious wreckage... other than Jan. The day's travel and negotiations took a toll on her. I put her to bed wrapped in salompas patches, heating pads and ice-bags (not at the same time!). That did the trick and she slept off the trip.
So, back in the USA and I'm already planning to take the BMW down to Tijuana for paint & body and some carb tuning! We'll spend the night. Hit a good restaurant, shop some cheap pottery and wait for the car work to be done.
What could go wrong? It's a perfect plan!
It's a year later and I'm thinking about Mexico again. Here's a photo I got from Donnie just the the other day: