If you’ve read all my posts (you poor bastard) you may be under the impression that my participation in Southern Cone has been nothing but hiking, stars and the occasional glass of wine, that there has been little unpleasantness or bad days.  That impression would be largely correct aside from missing that the bulk of my time but, understandably, not my blog, has been working with students in some form or the other.  Aside from the not insignificant problem of separation from loved ones and work at a crucial time in my department’s history, the program has, so far, been a very positive and enriching experience.  There have been few really bad days. Some very long ones and very hard ones but most days are the routine days we all have at work.  You show up, you do your job, you get a bite to eat and you go home.  Just with Spanish background noise.

Today was a bad day.  Actually, I think tomorrow will be the bad day.  Or, rather, the next 36 hours will be the bad day and a half.  Whatever.

Mary was supposed to arrive tomorrow morning bright and early and then we’d have a rested day on Sunday to see the sights.  The first leg of her trip was cancelled and because no one seems capable of flying from North America to South except overnight, she now won’t arrive until Sunday morning.

Neither of us are happy.

I haven’t gotten the full report, something about an aging airplane falling apart or flight crew getting pissed off or just the general sorry state of American commercial aviation at the moment (okay, none of that is true except something being wrong with the plane) but it doesn’t really matter.  I’m angry and disappointed as is Mary.  As are a few of you out there reading now probably.  In the scheme of things, it won’t really matter.  Another 24 hours when you’ve been apart for three months wouldn’t be a big deal unless you thought those 24 hours wouldn’t happen.  It’s a sucker punch and a good one.

Of course, you can fill in here the boilerplate about how so many others have it so much worse.  Of course they do and you shouldn’t take this post to indicate that I think otherwise.

Still, I’m going to get a beer, sit on my balcony and teach the kids running around at the daycare next door how to swear in English.  Speaking of, why in the holy frakking hell are they still there at 7pm on a Friday night?  Go home.

Ciao.

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