Puerto Rico recap
Day One: This is Captain Metcalf...
July 28, 2008
By Joshua Anderson
photo: McNair Scholars from the University of Kansas and Inter San German at El Yunque National Rainforest, July 2008.
I know I said I'd live blog from Puerto Rico. Apparently I lied. It was wishful thinking: something I fall victim to often. So instead of a "live blog," I'm providing my rabid readers with a "recap," which is good because now I can more eloquently exaggerate on the nature of my adventures, and no one will ever know the difference.
Monday, July 14th, 2008
9:45 a.m.
We're pulling out of the drive in the first of a number of white 15-passenger vans that are to become my second home in the week to come. My children, my wife, and my mother are on the porch waving. I am contemplating whether or not I could've/should've gone ahead and snuck my 3-year old on the flight in my carry-on.
12:30ish p.m.
I find my seat on the plane. It's been years since I've flown. It strikes me how our plane seems like a bus with wings. I'm pushed back in my seat as we accelerate and leave the earth.
3:50ish p.m.
I'm nudged awake by the runway and the feel of asphalt beneath our wheels. The pilot informs us that we're 10 minutes early, but the rest of the world is 10 minutes late, so we wait on the tarmac for 20 minutes before exiting the plane. A quick jog through Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport and we're where we need to be. "Right on time."
5:30 p.m.
After an hour on the tarmac (same one? different one? what's a tarmac anyway?), we're informed by the soon-to-be infamous Captain Metcalf that the winds have changed direction so we'll have to turn around, but are behind 2,000 other airplanes who have to perform the same, apparently difficult and time-consuming manuever. We take off an hour late, or as I came to know it: right on time, Puerto Rico style.
5:30 - 8:30 p.m.
Myself and my fellow McNair/ EPSCoR scholars become acquainted with the mysterious pilot of our flying bus, Captain Metcalf, whose tendency towards personal self-disclosure via the plane's intercom system is unparalleled. Every 5 minutes or so, the squelch of the speakers sounds, followed by a prolonged "Uhhh, this is Capt. Metcalf, it seems that
a)I've got to make a left at Jamaica to get to Puerto Rico,
b) we're going to do a loop-di-loop in order to avoid this "popcorn" (whatever that is) sprouting up ahead of us
c) I've got a lot of paperwork to do, so we're going to circle around for a few hours while I work on that
and inevitably this would mean that the flight was going to be "uhhhhh... uncomfortable... for about... eight.. and a half minutes." I think he was attempting to assuage any fears we might have, but his plan backfired: it made it seem like he was overcompensating for some very real and near doom. Thanks for sharing, Captain Metcalf.
9:00 p.m.
We're retrieving our luggage. Soon we meet our Puerto Rican McNair counterparts from San German. Our introduction is very warm and welcoming, and conversation quickly springs up. Within minutes we're at the restaurant in the hotel, enjoying each other's company and talking Puerto Rican culture, politics, etc.
Midnight (ish)
I take a walk outside. I can't sleep. From google earth I knew that we were achingly close to the sea: I'm from Kansas - I can't wait to see it. It's been ages. I don't go far and so don't find it. I finally manage to fall asleep. The following morning I will hop out of bed at six thinking "Oh yeah! I'm in Puerto Rico!"
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