Welcome to Brazil

We made it! And nothing was lost for anyone except me!

My flight out of Seattle ended up being about 90 minutes late, so when we touched down in Dallas I ran as fast as I could from the C terminal to the D terminal (while landing I had looked at the airport map in the American Airlines magazine in order to plot my exact tactic for getting from C7 to D33 – it involved running up an escalator, over the top of a freeway, down an escalator, and through a lot of loitering travelers.) When I arrived at the gate the door was closed and nobody was there except two women at the counter. “Are you Virgil?” They asked.

“No, I’m Ben Collins, is this the right gate for Sao Paulo?”

“Yes, but who are you? What’s your last name?”

“Collins, here’s my ticket”

“Seattle? How did you make it in time?”

The passengers had been held up for some guy named Virgil, and were told that the plane was having trouble with the water tank. Turns out I made it, but Virgil and my luggage were stuck in Dallas for a full day.

The flight was long, but uneventful. I had three center seats to myself, so I could lay down, but every time I wanted out I had to ask the people on the isle to wake up and let me stand up. In Sao Paulo we met up with the race director, Virgilio, along with the French Team, led by Benjamin Sanson. It was 11am, but the Canadians and Mexicans were scheduled to arrive at 2pm, so we had to wait. in the airport.

Now it’s a little after 6. We didn’t leave the airport until almost 3pm, and the drive was nearly three hours. I’m just happy that I’m here. I’d rather be without bags in Brazil than without bags in Dallas.