It’s difficult at times to grasp two languages at the same time; although it pains me to admit, I do prefer the American English, because of its simplicity. No conjugation of verbs, no fastidious naming of Sir and Madam, simplicity at its best.
I had appointments with some bureaucrats in Mexico City where I was to persuade them to renovate their hospitals with the latest European interior finishes. The meetings were set, the hotels booked, the airlines organized and away I went to see these people.
I never drive in a large and unfamiliar city, especially when the population reaches 6 million; it’s not safe to drive in a very large city organized by round-abouts and VW bugs as taxis. Lucky for me, my contact was the architect in charge of specifications of health care and he sent a car and driver to the airport to fetch me.
Arrived at the hotel, organized my computer and other paraphernalia I use for my work, after asking the driver to pick me up the next morning to start visiting with bureaucrats at city hall. I had no idea what was to happen while I was sleeping.
The next morning, the driver suggested we cancel all meetings and get back to the airport; the government had issued a devaluation of the peso against the dollar and the city was in chaos. I called my contact; he verified the facts. I found my hotel bill was $12/night due to the devaluation. Originally, I had agreed for a room at $800 pesos/night, which amounted to about $80. Had no reason to continue the stay, so we left for the airport.
Needless to say, the airport was also in chaos, as many Americans were cancelling their trips, their vacations and trying to change their flights to get back home. After several hours of juggling schedules, arriving cities, changes in itineraries and luggage, I was able to depart with several stops prior to arriving at the San Diego airport.
After many delays in flight, overbooked seats, hunger, pain and absolute chaos at every airport we stopped, arrived to discover my luggage was detained somewhere in another airplane or city. I was tired and ready to get home. Left name and address with the airlines asking them to re-route my luggage when found and I departed for home.
It was a pleasant evening for driving; however, unfinished business kept nagging at the back of my brain and I was upset for the turn of events while still organizing my thoughts about how to reconsider the Mexico City situation. Never thought of calling home and letting anyone know about the changes. We did not have cellular phones then.
Arriving at home close to midnight, our son opened the door and was surprised to see me standing there without any luggage. He fixed me a warm glass of milk and went upstairs to bed. I changed into my pajamas, washed my face, got ready to finally snuggle in my own bed and pillow; I moved the blankets with care, slipped into the sheets trying not to upset grumpy, when I felt his feet shoving me out of the bed unto the floor as he said: “Not in my bed, you don’t”; he obviously didn’t know it was me arriving earlier than planned.