Well today started extremely early for me. I went to a bar in Chicago with a few dear friends too see me off. I got home around 11:oopm and took a drunken nap until 2:45am got up took a shower and grabbed my bags. I left the house and dragged my tired and utterly cold body to the train and sat with a tired blank look all the way to O'hare.I got to the airport checked in got on my flight and wished how I had the power to soundly sleep in a steel structure going over 500 mph. Sadly I couldn't so I opened a booked and dosed off with out closing my eyes, more of a loss of concentration than anything. I arrived at the Miami International airport around 9:45 AM this morning in a zombie state of mind . The airport itself was a little more dilapidated than I had expected. Letdown by the lack of stimulation from the interior , I instantly headed to the nearest sports bar that this fine mess of an airport had to offer.......The Home Turf Sports Bar.
I went to the bar and put my bags down and ordered a large Sam Adams from the manic russian lady behind the counter that went by the name of Marsila. I eventually ordered some food and talked a bit with Marslia when she wasn't trying to get me to drink shots for $3.00. Suddenly a girl walked up to the bar trying to order breakfast and was denied by Marsila. "Breakfest stops at 10:00 baby!" in her thick russian accent. Marsila called everyone baby. I befriended this lone traveler and learned her name, Michelle from Montreal. Michelle was attacked by a platoon of mosquitos in Puerto Rico and covered with bites she was headed home from her business trip. We talked a long while then it was time to fly. I eventually made my way to the gate to catch the flight heading to Caracas. The scene at the gate was very gentle a lot of really handsome and beautiful Venezuelans from what I could tell.
I made my way to the plane found my seat and awaited for my coworker whom I have never met. As I was stowing my belongings away I heard in a soft southern voice "You must be Steve!" Alas I have met the fabled Gabe. We shook hands and I could tell I would instantly like this person. Gabe is a photographer from New York City, originally from the south with a very sweet demeanor , stirring interest on world politics and a very well traveled person. We talked the entire flight to Caracas and he told me of his photo series on truck drivers he is doing. Gabe has actually become a truck driver to get the portraits for his series. He has started out west and is trying to cover the United States. Our conversation ends as we start to see the mountains of Venezuela. We have made it! We both share the same excitement both immersed in the beauty of the fog covered landscape.
We grab our luggage and walk off the plan next stop customs. As we are walking I notice how clean this airport is. Everything is white and polished and everything is very orderly. We get through customs get out luggage and await for the arrival of the second part of our team, Rene and Marko. We head out of the airport and find Isabella our contact in Caracus awaiting with a driver. Isabella is a breath of fresh air she is young ,beautiful and very smart. We all pile into the van and we make our 45 minute drive to our hotel away from the coast and into the foothills of Caracas. The sun has set and its dark and you can see the lights from the houses illuminating the hills. As we get closer the traffic is very bad everyone driving with aggression. I was told that in Caracas you don't have to take a driving test so anyone can get a license....anyone. Motorcycles are passing us on both-sides and at least four ambulances passed us. As we pass corners and billboards you start to see the shadowy side of the city, figures appearing out of thin air and dark places then disappearing again...everyone seems illusive in this city. As we turn the corner we pull up and arrive at the hotel.
As I get out of the van I look over and see my friend Brandon walk out of the hotel! Brandon is an ex coworker of mine that met a beautiful ,charming and intelligent girl from Venezuela by the name of Maurin. They met each other in Chicago fell in love and moved to Venezuela. Brandon is one of the nicest people I have ever met and I hope to be friends with him for a good long while......we instantly mesh he always feels like an old friend. We check in, get our rooms and drop off our luggage. We are all starving from a very early day of traveling we just want get drinks and food,so we go to restaurant which is outside. The weather at this point cooled off to a nice 70 F with a slight breeze incredibly gorgeous. We talk about Chavez and the the latest political uprising which is happening tomorrow. A protest of 400,000 students that are being denied the right to vote......another side note Chavez has also changed the time ahead in Caracas by a half an hour so when his children get up for school the sun will be over the horizon. We ended dinner with good conversation and everyone went to the sauna except for Brandon, Maurin and myself we went to the bar and had about four more drinks said our good byes and now here I sit sleep deprived and awake.
gas relief - extra strength!
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