Rooster Aware! Rooster Aware?

Driving to the airport, a fellow was jaywalking in San Ramon wearing a t-shirt that says, “Rooster Aware.” That gave me something to ponder for a while. But, you gotta admit, it’s pretty imponderable. But, at that point I needed something to take my mind off our predicament.

Yesterday, I had called to confirm our pick-up and flight to Punta Islita. At 5:30 am, when the van hadn’t shown yet, I got a little fidgety, but chalked it up to slow going in the dark for the driver. At 5:45, I paged the agency owner. He didn’t call us till 6:10, telling the resort receptionist that he couldn’t reach the driver but would call back soon.

At 6:15, when he called back, he asked how I was doing (in the polite way people do when they are simply starting a conversation, not that they really want to know). I noted that I’d be doing better if I was currently in a van on the way to the airport. He allowed how that was both true and unfortunate. The driver had problems and only now reached him by cell. “This is a mountainous country.” Translated from travel agent language to real language, that means, “the guy overslept.” Cell phones work fine, particularly along the route the driver would have taken.

Fortunately for us, the Villa Blanca people called back the employee shuttle van, which was taking the night workers back to San Ramon, and we piled in. Our driver made great time – slowing down occasionally at stop signs. We hit a traffic jam about 8 miles from the airport, but got past that fairly quickly.

(I actually feel bad for the travel agent owner – he’s not the guy who overslept, and now he’s got to not only refund us our money for the transfer, but also pay Villa Blanca for acting as his shuttle. I doubt it is a good day for his worker.)

We pulled into the airport and came to the Sansa regional terminal. Fortunately, it is incredibly small (about the size of a mid-sized Costa Rican house). Our driver took us straight to the door (yes, I tipped him well). No lines, no problems. Now, we are waiting for the flight in a waiting area in which you go past security to use the restroom. The men’s room has a window on the door in plain sight of the urinals. There is ample seating for roughly 15 people, so a lot of folks get to stand.

At least our soft luggage is on the bottom of the luggage cart with hard-sided suitcases on it. The surfer dude who was sleeping by sprawling across three valuable chairs was forced to share by a couple of American ladies of a certain age.

The poster on the wall says – “Welcome to Costa Rica. Why Choose Sansa?” Then, like a piece of contrast mail in a political campaign, it lists a number of areas (safety, service, professionalism), with key points underneath. By each, there is a checkmark under “Sansa” and a “No” under “Others.” Negative advertising is everywhere. And it works (unless we crash).

I talked for a bit with a guy flying somewhere nearby Punta Islita (45 minutes north). He’s from the Philly mainline, but also has a house on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Plus, he bought a house here in Costa Rica ten years ago. He first start coming to the country in 1986. “If I had bought then, I’d be a millionaire many times over,” he noted. But, he still paid a lot less for his house 100 meters from the beach in 1997 than it would cost now. He spends August and February here in Costa Rica, and sometimes comes down for Christmas with his wife.

He spent yesterday in San Jose drinking, gambling, and looking for his second wife. I didn’t ask any follow-up questions, primarily because, like you my faithful, I really didn’t want to know. If you know what I mean and I think you do. He headed out for his flight prior to trying to sell me narcotics, so that was nice.

Now, we’re just waiting to be called for our flight, which in theory leaves in six minutes.