Yesterday we had just about the most hellish travel day imaginable.
It began with Russell and me having food poisoning. We’re not sure how we got it, but we both were feverish and sweaty, weak as kittens and sick as dogs. I had been losing it from both ends and had vomited, with truly spectacular force, for the first time in as long as I can remember. We then boarded a small van to take a five-hour drive to the airport. Five hours! The combination of my unsettled stomach and the rutted Costa Rican roads, the many hairpin turns, and the tight shock absorbers in the van, which made every jut and jar a literal head-banging experience, had predictable results. That five-hour ride was the longest and most unpleasant five hours of my life.
Once we reached the San Jose airport — and no airport was ever such a welcome sight! — the challenge then changed. It is one thing to be barfing on a van, with only your family members and a hired driver as witness. It is quite another to lose it in a crowded airport or on a plane packed with holiday travelers. But through the trip from San Jose to Houston, the race to get through customs, and screening, and baggage claim, and re-entry in Houston, and then the final leg from Houston to Columbus, we held it together, and we finally got home around midnight, some fifteen hours after our hellish day began.
After that experience, being home sure feels good.