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“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t leave Brazil.”

5:40pm - 1 hour 40 minutes until flight

The old man wearing an orange shirt standing in front of me on line for the flight to Madrid looked pissed as a group of guitar wielding kids jumped the long Iberia line to the preferred line.  

We had a small chat in Portuguese, little did I know the role he would play later in my getting to Madrid.

6:00pm - 1 hour 20 minutes until flight

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t leave Brazil.”

“What?!  No, no, you don’t understand.  I HAVE to make this flight.”

“That’s not possible because you don’t have a ticket showing that you’re leaving Brazil after you return from Madrid.”

That’s when my cool began to crumble, ever so slightly.  Of course I couldn’t leave, I thought to myself.  To enter the country I needed a ticket out.  I had thought of that when moving to Brazil, I bought a roundtrip ticket with oneway intentions, but for some reason this very important fact hadn’t dawned on me when buying my ticket to London.  With only 15 minutes left to check in the shock of the moment read clearly on my face.  I was stuck.

“Let me call my manager and see what I can do.” 

I thank him and after talking to his manager I was told again that I could not leave Brazil.  

“There has to be something that I can do.  I have to get on this flight.”  

“Well, you can buy a ticket leaving Brazil.”

6:15pm - 1 hour 5 minutes until flight

I stood in front of Iberia’s special services counter trying my best to remain calm.  There were 3 people standing in front of me, and it was getting dangerously close to my departure time.  If I missed my flight, there was no guarantee that I could get on another flight before our departure from London to Venice.  Europe was not exactly the easiest place to get around because of the Icelandic volcano. 

To top things off, the Iberian computers were broken, so the guy had to walk to the back of some office which took around 15 minutes per person.  Time was a luxury that I did not have so when he came out again, I was in his face spouting off questions in broken Portuguese.  We went back and forth for a minute when he told me to wait.  My stomach clenched because I couldn’t afford to wait anymore time, when finally he said, “You can just speak English.”

 …

I immediately told him my issue and he told me that Iberia doesn’t fly to the United States.  He told me to go to an american airline if I wanted to buy a ticket.

6:30pm - 50 minutes until flight

My hamstrings screamed as I sprinted through the terminal as fast as I could towards the american airlines.  I ran until I saw the desk for Delta came screeching to a halt and dashed to the desk.  

“Você fala inglês?”  I asked the attendant immediately.  I didn’t have time to jump through language loopholes.  Luckily she spoke English and I told her my problem.

I felt under enormous pressure at this point.  I was just sure that boarding had ceased and that I would miss my flight.  On top of that, I had sprinted to the other side of the terminal, and in that situation where every second counted, a 3 minute sprint could make or brake me.

“What city would you like to go to?”

I picked a city.

“And on what date?”

I picked a date.

“$1900.00USD”  I tried not to choke at the thought of the price.  I was able to get a round trip ticket for $300 cheaper.  And just like that, my pocket was $1600.00 lighter.

6:45pm - 35 minutes until flight

After waving goodbye to my money and the attendant I ran like I was running for my life back to the Iberia counter.  I arrived out of breath and the attendant smiled at me, apparently amused at my determination.  He told me not to worry, he had already printed my boarding pass and that I would make the flight.  

“I got you a really great seat.”  I smiled and thanked him.

“It’s the most expensive seat that I’ve ever bought, so I’m glad that it will be worth the trouble.”  I couldn’t manage much more than that, because I was too out of breath to talk.  

But just when I thought things were set, and that I’d be on the flight fine, only a few moments later I was left thinking, there is no way that I’m getting on this flight.

6:55pm - 25 minutes until flight

The line to get through baggage inspection was longer than any line that I had seen for anything ever in my entire life.  I mean it wrapped around and around and around.  It made lines for roller coasters looks short and with only 25 minutes left and a bad case of the “I can’t speak Portuguese”’s a wave of defeat passed over me, but only for a moment.  I would not be deterred.  

I started rousing up some of the security guards trying to explain to them that my flight was leaving shortly, but no one seemed concerned, at all.  I even saw people who were on my flight scattered throughout the line and no one looked alarmed.  This only alarmed me more and when I was just about to make a really big fuss, the old man in the orange shirt who was standing in the line in front of me emerged from the crowd! 

He was walking to the back of the line just like me.  A wave of relief passed over me.  He didn’t speak any English, but I knew if I stuck with him that I’d be okay.  We made small talk about the prices of cigarettes in Brazil and in Italy.  Apparently he was Italian and he’d spent his time since checkin stocking up on cigarettes.

7:00pm - 20 minutes until flight

The old Italian guy in the orange shirt, who I’ll call Donatello, made friends with a guy who was standing behind us, who I’ll call Raphael.  Apparently he was Italian as well and the three of us were headed to Madrid.  I found their calmness unnerving as they chatted away in what at first I thought was Portuguese with an Italian accent, but turned out to actually be Italian. 

There the three of us stood, the two of them chatting away, me nodding when I understood parts and reminding Donatello that we were getting close to our flight time.  

They were much to lax for my taste, had we stayed in the line it would’ve taken an hour at least to get through, so I figured it was time to raise some more hell.  The group in front of us spoke English so I asked them what time their flight was and they said 9:00pm.  I asked them if it was normal to be in line this close to a flight and shocked a woman in the group said “You’re going to miss your flight!” 

She had the look of a hell raiser so we both went to the guards and made such a scene that they said that we could go through.  Donatello had gone out for a smoke, so Raphael went to grab him.  Right when the guards looked like they were about to change their minds, Donatello and Raphael came running in and the three of us got to skip the line and moments later were in customs.

7:15pm - 5 minutes until flight 

Raphael and I stood on the line to the gate waiting for Donatello to get through customs.  I explained to Raphael that I didn’t speak Italian and only a little Portuguese.  Attempts at talking to him further led me to believe that either he couldn’t understand my Portuguese or he couldn’t understand it at all.

As Donatello walked up, we waved and laughed.  We’d formed a sort of brotherhood through the whole ordeal.  As if nothing insane had even happened, Donatello suggested that we get off line and grab something to drink before getting on the plane.  The paranoia from my frazzled nerves told me to stay on the line at all costs, but Donatello was right, we were at the gate; it was okay to relax.

He bought us a round of drinks and we toasted to our victory.  

7:25pm - -5 minutes until flight

My seat was 8L, near the front.  It was the first row of seats in economy class with tons of foot room, and on top of that it was a window seat!  I was relieved that the attendant had really found me the best seat in economy class.  

Just when I was about to take my seat, a woman holding an infant walks over.  She’s in the seat next to me.  She asks me in Italian if I can switch seats with her grandmother.  I look two rows back and sitting in an aisle seat is the cutest old lady that I had ever seen smiling and waving at me.

What could I say?

We swapped.  She took my golden seat, and I took perhaps the worst seat on the plane.  Not only was it an aisle seat, it was the first row of 3 seats so people were more prone to bump into me.  It also had 2 loud kids behind it.

7:30pm- -10 minutes until flight

After two 800m sprints, $1600, two new Italian friends, 4 languages, a beer, and a golden seat swap, I finally eased back into my seat feeling relaxed.  I felt like the richest man in the world, for the adventure of it all, for adrenaline pumping through my veins.  This feeling was priceless.

Just when I closed my eyes, and leaned back into my chair to take my much deserved rest, the unruly 2 year old sitting behind me kicked the back of my chair.

:)