Alberto offered to give me a lift to the airport, which was really great of him. We chucked the boxed-up Stef in the back of the clapped-out Chevy and I was careful where I put my pannier bags. There’s a hole the size of a large suitcase on the rear left of the Chevy’s floor, Alberto reminds me not to put anything there or it will wind up on the road. We parted ways with a hug, I’m gonna miss Alberto and his clapped-out Chevy.
The airline was fine about taking the bike, for an extra sixty dollars. They wouldn’t let me take the bicycle lock for some reason. The plane made a wide arc across the island so it was possible to see the reefs I’d been diving on over the past month. I’m gonna miss Cozumel.
Everything always looks good from the air.
I dropped back down into the polluted hustle and bustle of Mexico city. Perla had made the effort to come out and meet me, it was great to see her and sad to say goodbye again.
Flew into the hustle and bustle of another city, Los Angeles. For an airport at midnight, it was crazily busy. I got through immigration quickly but it took me well over an hour to get my luggage re-scanned and to check in. The LAX staff were bitter and miserable, I’ll be glad if I never have to travel through LAX again.