“Welcome to Lima International Airport.” Said the stewardess’s voice over the intercom,
as the plane taxied into the terminal. My flight was finally over. For several
hours into the night, I flew over the inky black ocean of the Carribean, and then
over land where I didn’t see any lights. A cluster of lights was an island, and then
there were stretches of darkness. A single light was a ship. Over the darkness of
the Amazon, a cluster of lights was a village. I arrived into an unknown with a
language where I knew at most, fifty words, thirty of which were for flirting with
women, thanks to Maria’s lessons. The rest I gleaned from a cram session on the
plane, and I memorized a routine conversation for getting a taxi, and finding a hotel.

During the plane flight, I thought about what I’d do when I arrived. I had a
road map of Peru, and all of Southern South America. While analyzing the map, I
noticed my lonely light in a dark, slumbering cabin. Nervous, and hyper, I drank
five cups of coffee. Then I went to the bathroom four times, and smiled at the
stewardesses each time.

“Too much coffee?” She asked me.

“Yes.”

When the plane landed, I was anxious to get off. After customs, I washed up
in the bathroom, and smiled to myself in the mirror. “I did it!” I said to myself.
I hurried to the baggage claim, and grabbed my bags, but my bicycle box wasn’t
there. Thirty minutes later, a reddish brown man came in with a cart, and a big box.
I picked up my bicycle, and carted everything to the tariff zone.

“How much is the bicycle?” Asked the officer. I looked at her, then the box,
and then back at her again.