Miami vs Nicaragua
I cannot comment because I continue to have never gone to Nicaragua.
I was SUPPOSED to be in Nicaragua, but as anyone who travels a lot can attest, eventually your luck goes sideways, and the more passengers you add to your itinerary, the more chances you have for it to topple over like a bunch of pigs stacked on top of each other. Why are the pigs on top of each other in the first place? That is another mystery of the universe for someone else to solve.
We got to the American Airlines counter and got the line no one ever wants to hear.
“This passport doesn’t match the itinerary.” WHAT. Ma’am I have had this passport for AGES, that photo of a drug dealer woman who just got let out on bail has been getting me into suspicious countries FOREVER, how dare you tell me it doesn’t match?!
“No, the baby.”
Oh, that fucking criminal?
Okay, fair enough.
Despite my offering for them to check his diapers for illegal drugs (joke was on them, they were inside my stomach), they could not let him fly. No matter, we’ve had this issue before when I stupidly didn’t realize my passport was expired right before one of my most best good friend’s weddings that I was supposed to be in and Dan carried me on wings (re: in a rented Ford Fiesta) to the passport office in Seattle where we got a last-minute passport and made it to the wedding.
Being in Miami, surely this would happen again! I called the passport office and asked if we could come in.
I don’t think they’re allowed to laugh at you outright. But if they were, I’m pretty sure that is what the woman would have done. “Ma’am, this is Miami,” she said.
Okay. Fair enough again.
The Baby very smartly has adapted his biology to have me protect and is now too cute to consider abandoning on any doorsteps (but it was touch and go as a newborn) or in any airports. Dan and I try every which way to figure out how to fix it, but after every suggestion he has to remind me that burning down the passport office is not a fix, nor is punching everyone in the airport, nor is waving around my global entry card yelling, “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!”
He is always knocking down my great ideas.
So my final good idea is for Dan to go on to the wedding and Baby and me to sit in Miami as the only immigrants denied exit at the border instead of entry.
So how does Miami stack up against Nicaragua? Well, so far Nicaragua has denied me nothing, so Miami INTL can suck a dick and Nicaragua is still assumed to be cool until further notice.
It is not all bad though. My brother happened to be in a conference at the Fontainebleu in Miami Beach, and having never been to Miami Beach, I checked us in and now we enjoy the pleasant astroturf of the pool area and the dulcet tones of Shakira and Flo Rida.
A highlight of the hotel is they invite all guests to circuit train in the morning, so I am down here eating pastries and watching that happen, and if I can’t ride ponies on the Nicaraguan beach, this is definitely the next best thing.