We ran up to the check-in desk at the Cancun airport thinking we had just made it. The agent at the desk just laughed at us, “have you heard of this thing called 9/11?” he asked, “all international flights have to be checked in an hour before takeoff so we can make sure you’re not terrorists” (we had arrived approximately 57 minutes before our flight), “but you’re supposed to be here 3 hours ahead of time, so it’s your own fault.”
We had traveled by bus from Mexico City to Cancun visiting several places in between on our spring break and were scheduled to go back to class the next morning. People were offering $600 to anyone willing to give up their seat (which was more than double the price of the sweet tickets my travel goddess Mandy at STA in Gainesville had gotten me) so we knew there was no way we were getting back to the US that night.
We grudgingly booked a flight for the next morning, and in typical Kyle & Ali fashion looked for a culinary way to ease our pain. We got off the bus in Cancun (which we had tried to avoid) at the first decent looking restaurant and bought big margaritas to drink on the beach while watching the sunset and waiting for some delicious food.
A family walked by and the husband remarked on our backpacks, “it must be nice to be able to be spontaneous,” with a slightly reproachful look at his screaming kids. Kyle and I laughed and agreed; even when it’s forced upon you by draconian TSA rules, spontaneity is a wonderful luxury.