Aug 30th, 2008
Arrival in Rio
I left Dulles on time at 5:30 PM yesterday. I sat next to an older Indian gentleman who had his elbows pushed out and immediately realized I would have a worthy adversary to compete with for control of the shared arm rest. By the time I sat down he had already taken control of the back half of the arm rest so I responded by taking control of the front half, making sure my elbow was leaning over the side an inch (just as his was).
As we took off I made sure to twitch my biceps every now and again, hoping that the movement would annoy him into giving up control of his half of the arm rest but the tactic didn’t work. Finally, after we reached cruising altitude he reached down for his laptop and I took the opportunity to take control of the back half of the arm rest, a position I kept for the remainder of the flight.
So the good news is that I had complete control of the superior back half of the arm rest and remain undefeated over my last 100 flights. The bad news is that I was so preoccupied with the arm rest that I left my notebook (with all relevant travel information) in the seat front pocket.
Unfortunately I didn’t realize that I had left my notebook in the seat pocket until I sat down on the second flight (from Atlanta to Rio) and realized it was no longer sitting in my bag. Cursing myself, I sat and thought about how my plans to write throughout the nine our flight were now void because I was so preoccupied with the arm rest I had left my notebook on the plane. I took out one of the books I had brought, The Gift and began reading the jacket.
I quickly realized that A) The author makes no bones about his belief in the healing power of Christianity; B) that the story centers around Christmas; and C) the book starts out with a quote from the Bible. Now, I have nothing against Christianity mind you - I just tend to be a secular reader…so I promptly took my pen out and started writing my own stuff in the blank pages of the book. I guess it did end up being a Gift after all.
Anyway, after about 15 minutes of writing the pilot began to prepare for takeoff only to realize that the engine wasn’t powering on. After having a mechanic come out and fiddle with the engine for a bit they summarily decided that the plane wasn’t in condition to make the >5K mile flight and they deboarded us after an hour on the tarmac. I actually didn’t really feel upset - in fact I think I would have felt more nervous had they decided to move forward with the flight after fixing a faulty engine.
They found a replacement plane and pushed the departure time to 11:55 AM, which I actually didn’t mind because it provided me with an opportunity to rush back to my arrival gate in Atlanta airport and see if I could track down my notebook. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t able to locate it and trudged back to the departure gate, feeling defeated - a feeling that a quarter pounder from McDonalds helped alleviate slightly.
I quickly got a phone call from George and learned that he was experiencing similar difficulties (his plane was also experiencing mechanical failures) and that he might not even make it out that evening. Score one for the US aviation industry. We finally got off the ground at about 11:40 PM and after thanks to the wonders of ambien (score one for the US pharmaceutical industry) I basically woke up at 9:30 AM (Brazilian time), one hour away from Rio. We landed and I made my way through customs without any problems.
After a quick bus ride through Rio I arrived at the Hotel Astoria Palace in one piece. After a quick walk around Copacabana (quick because it is raining and chilly) I grabbed a steak panini at a nearby restaurant and then did some cardio in the hotel fitness center while watching Van Helsing dubbed over in Portuguese.
I decided to head to a nearby PC cafe to write and tell everyone I arrived fine and in the elevator met an absolute bear of a man with red hair who reminded me of Mel Gibson’s right-hand man from Braveheart. We chatted briefly while walking down the Avenue Atlantica. As we walked he told me about how to get over to the football game without paying tourist prices (apparently they mark everything up if you book through the hotel) and then went into exhaustive detail about the brothels here despite my insistence that I wasn’t interested. It turns out he was actually walking to one at that point in time and we stopped and chatted outside his brothel for a few minutes before I headed here to the PC room to write to you guys!
Anyway, George should be here any second now and I am going to call some of Spencer’s friends to see if they are doing anything tonight. I’ll write more soon!
