Almosts and Arrivals

It had been less than 24 hours, and I’d already witnessed two parts of the globe that I’ve never seen before. A dozen or more hours on the road, Kitty and I were ready to GET HOME. 

I asked this dude next to me if he could Hotspot me. 

Hotspot, what a word. Reminds me of that popular ice-cream place in Islamabad during my teen years. 

The queue at the airport was going fast. I normally push all the other slowpokes out of my way so I could get ahead in line. This time, I waved them all to move past me while I tried to get my e-sim working. 

I’m on the ground with my laptop open. People walked over my cat as I tried to catch the QR code with my phone. It kept glitching. Then I turned on this thing, and turned off this option and…nothing worked. 

Finally, there were two people in front of me, and one behind me. I slapped my laptop shut. It was time to give up on the e-sim. 

The Mexican woman at the passport control was small, just like the Queretaro Airport. She looked at my passport, typed into the thing, called her colleague over. They spent many minutes mulling over my issue. I don’t/didn’t know what it was. 

They took me to an office as small as themselves. It looked like no one had touched it since in the 80s. There were registry books on the desk, and an old-timey computer with a boxy monitor and PC and everything. Spanish flew from one immigration officer to the other. I looked over at Miko. Her marble eyes looked at me through the net of her carrier. She hadn’t been to the toilet in over 12 hours. 

I don’t know what they were talking about, what document could be so important that they were keeping me here. I wanted to scream. I resented having to learn patience. 

“Can we go soon?” I begged. I received a half-nod. The school had sent a driver to pick me up. I wondered if he’d still be waiting for me. I was also itching to run over to the baggage claim. The obsession of making sure all ends well. I had already composed the text, “We made it in one piece” to my family. If only I could send it.

Instead, I send a text to the one person whom I know here. The one woman whom I’d said I wouldn’t reach out to, when I promised I wouldn’t drive myself into drama. The woman my ex dated after me. RIGHT after me. AS we were talking about getting back together. 

“You up?”

I joke with you. It wasn’t “You up”. But it was, “Are you awake?” 

After a trillion years, they make me sign a document and signal me to follow. I grab my cat and my backpack, and am about to shove the document into my passport. “Noooo no!” I am to show it to a very important officer soon. I must keep it ironed-neat. 

The conveyor belt had said goodnight. My five suitcases were all out waiting for me. Second good news of the night. I rushed to grab them, but I had to open them to present them to more security people. Then they had to check on Miko. I saw the woman coo at her, which was positive. She wants to be nice to us. She wants to let us go soon. 

We step outside. My eyes scanned for the driver. I’ve never had someone at the airport hold my name up as a sign. I saw someone with one and jumped with glee. 

“Stephanie.” 

Who’s this Stephanie? Bitch. 

I looked around for my name. I felt very stupid. I looked right at people’s faces, and they looked back at mine in confusion. 

I dragged my cat and five suitcases to the Taxi stand. I told the where I needed to go. They replied in lazy Spanish. Someone translated that it’d be an hours’ wait. 

I stepped out and called an Uber. Juan was 9 minutes away. 

I spoke to the gentleman who helped with the translation. I wish I could rewind myself back to the perky, upbeat girl, stepping into a vortex of enthusiasm. But really, I was grouchy. The people here were slow. I asked him where he got his water from. It was the perfect time and excuse to indulge in a cigarette. But I don’t light one up when I'm already thirsty. 

Someone taps on my shoulder, “Yasmin?”

“Alejandro?” it was the driver the school had sent, “Oh, I thought you left  because I’d been in there so long!”

I looked at my screen for Uber updates. Juan was a minute away. I shrugged and cancelled. They charged me a cancellation fee. 

Alejandro asks me if I’ve spoken to HR Boss. I’d emailed her earlier from the fluorescent immigration room, but had she replied? I don’t know. My dumb ass didn’t think to check. 

I buried my face into my palms, “Can we please go home?”

“Okay, one minute,” he said. Then he disappeared into the night.

Twelve minutes later, he returns with a phone instead of a car. He’s on WhatsApp with HR Boss. She wants to see my passport and that document I left with. 

“Yes, yes, here you go. Anything. Let’s just please go.” 

He disappears again, and I fight the stubborn urge to follow him with all my belongings. 

It’s already past midnight on the highways of Mexico. It reminds me of Pakistan, of Turkey, of rural Canada. All the countries and all my history merging. The billboards are bright enough to be visible and sinister enough to awaken me. Alejandro is making small talk, and I’m wincing as I respond. Only because he’s just so nice. 

We get there. The security guard and him have a chat. We’re finally in building F. Bless Alejandro. He escorted me to my door. 

The AirBnb host had given me a QR code to let myself in. “What a future we live in!” I’d thought to myself. I'd printed 7 copies of it in case my phone ran out of battery. 

The escalator doors opened. But where do we tap the QR code? It looked just like a normal door, with an old-fashioned lock. 

My stupid ass flashed the code around it. At this point, I was willing to try anything. 

I tried to text him but no WiFi. Alejandro went back to the car to get the phone with the Hotspot/WiFi. I called AirBnb Dude. No answer. In my height of desperation, I once again messaged the ex of the ex. 

“Girl.

"I need your help. I’m stuck outside my AirBnb. He had given me a QR code to get in but there is none and he’s not answering.”

I couldn’t even cry because my tears had dried up. I looked over at Miko, for bringing her here and putting her through this. “I’m sorry.” 

Then I get a message:

Luis: Hello.

I tried calling him. He didn’t pick up. 

He waits another minute before writing, “On the left side of the apartment door there is a lamp, above it is the key.”

Did he mean the apartment building or my specific door?

I finally step in to our refuge. I looked around for the kitty litter I ordered. None.

There was an enormous cardboard box of wine glasses in the laundry room. I removed the lid, found some washing detergent, shredded up one of the two toilet paper rolls, and guided my rattled cat towards it. She used it because she's a good girl.

I'm normally the type to unpack and scout the place when I travel. All I did was step out on the balcony. The foreboding outline of a mountain. The highway quiet with secrets. Welcome to my new life.