Generally speaking, moving is never an easy feat. Moving internationally during a growing pandemic, less so. In Parte Uno, we found ourselves in Cancun coordinating a relocation back to Canada during the worldwide outbreak of COVID-19. Borders were closing, two-week mandatory quarantine measures were coming into play and Miguel had a new job to start in just over 3 weeks in Vancouver. With plenty of pieces to juggle, a critical piece – our flight out of Cancun – was about to drop.
Staring at my laptop screen, I re-read the message glaring back at me.
“Please contact Alaska Airlines for the status of your flight.”
“Sh-hiiit…,” I exhaled slowly, attempting to ease the speed at which my stomach was dropping. I dialed the Alaska Airlines number and navigated the tele-prompts from memory and, with nerve-defying patience, I waited my turn in the queue to speak to an agent. Together, with Miguel and Antonio alongside me, we stood by.
A very kind agent eventually answered. All of my interactions with Alaska Airlines were incredibly pleasant throughout one of the most stressful times to be in the airline industry – a true testament to their commitment to customer service. And this conversation was no different, though the result most certainly was.
Our scheduled Cancun to Seattle flight on Sunday, April 12 was cancelled.
A week out and we had no way out. There were no Alaska Airlines flights leaving from Cancun from this point forward. With tears welling in my eyes, I thanked the kind agent, disconnected the call. Between gasps and tears, my words poured from me.
“How are we going to get home now? Remember how hard was it to get these flights in the first place? How are we going to find new flights with less than a week to go? And, and…to fly with Antonio? What if we can’t make it out with him? And, what about our movers? Our stuff? What if we can’t get home?”
After recovering from my border-line anxiety attack at the news of our cancelled flights, Miguel efficiently calmed me down and together we snapped to attention and began brainstorming our options.
It was Sunday, April 5. No ideas were bad ideas.
The best case scenario was to find alternate flights. I began calling all airlines with scheduled departures from Cancun to see who had availability for two humans and a Mexican street rescue. On the other extreme, we also thought of the worst possible scenario: driving from Cancun to LA where we would likely have better luck catching a flight into Vancouver. Miguel attempted to look into car rental options and border crossings.
By lunchtime, we had confirmed no American-based flights via Dallas or Houston were an option as they were not accepting animals on their flights. The only Canadian option was with Air Canada departing Mexico City, but only via Toronto and their next available flight with room for pets was two weeks away. I was a one-woman travel agency calling airlines, booking hotel rooms for overnight layovers ‘just-in-case’, and researching drive times from Cancun to Mexico City and Guadalajara.
By mid-afternoon we determined Alaska Airlines (thanks to their reasonable response times and impeccable customer service) had a regularly scheduled flight departing Guadalajara to Los Angeles the morning of Wednesday, April 8 where we could connect via Seattle to Vancouver. A new plan was coming into focus. We just needed to get ourselves to Guadalajara. And the sooner the better with flight schedules changing by the minute.
Committed to getting to Guadalajara in time to catch our flight to LA meant we needed to be aboard a flight out of Cancun by Tuesday night. Forty-eight hours and counting…
The remainder of Sunday was filled with incessant calls to the domestic airlines to confirm which could accept pets in cargo. With no luck, however, we instead went to the airport first thing Monday morning where we spoke to an agent in person and established we would be able to fly with Antonio. But with just thirty-six hours until our desired departure, we still had a few other pieces to confirm before we could commit to our tickets.
Already operating at warp speed, we now entered ludicrous speed flying around town to tie up loose ends: two trips to the vet for Antonio’s final vaccinations and required health certificate for travel; trips to Miguel’s office for final cheque signing and hand over; additional running around and phone calls to obtain the necessary paperwork to sell our car; runs to Office Max for a ridiculous amount of photocopying of documents for said sale, our travels and ‘just in case we might need it’ paperwork. By 6 o’clock that night, we made another trip back to the airport to purchase our Cancun to Guadalajara flights and confirmed our final arrangements with Alaska Airlines for the final stretch home. T-minus 24 hours…
Throughout Monday, the sideshow that was the coordination of furniture pickups continued to run in the background. Previously set for the following weekend, these now needed to be inconveniently expedited to Tuesday – tomorrow! With our buyers graciously rescheduling their pickups, we were also in touch with friends to collect our beloved plants and to organize the task of managing our movers (still scheduled for the following weekend); another sweet couple confirmed they could grab our extra food for distribution and donation; and a kind soul agreed to take all of our ‘for donation’ housewares, clothes, books etc. for distribution to those less fortunate.
Twenty-four hours to go and it was actually looking like we were going to make it!
But we weren’t there yet. By 9 o’clock that night, running on little sleep, I parked myself in front of the computer to pay our final bills, book hotels, confirm flight statuses and organize the final steps of the move. Meanwhile, Miguel sorted through clothes and packed necessary technology for our pending trip. Antonio paced nervously between floors wondering why everything was turned upside down. Little did he know…
At 4 am, twelve hours before we were due to leave the house, I finally hit the hay for a few hours of shuteye. Inventory list was complete, final loads of laundry done, notes written for movers, our helping friends, landlord, and for the new owners of our car. Three hours later, from the moment the alarm rang at 7 am, we motored. Miguel left to wrap up final tasks for the office while I managed the pick-ups – starting at 9 am and every half hour thereafter. By noon, all that remained was the delivery of our car to its new owner, repacking of belongings to account for additional items we were not permitted to ship with our movers, and to arrange for a cab to the airport.
I don’t remember much from that day… but here is what sticks out:
- home-baked cookies,
- watching our DIY headboard miraculously fit down the stairs in one piece,
- Miguel slipping into the pool for one final dip,
- Dago, our gardener, tropical creature catcher, and miracle fix-it man, offering to drive us to the airport.
Seated on board our plane at the Cancun International Airport, Miguel and I leaned into our seatbacks, sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Heart rates slowed, adrenaline abated, and for a moment, time stood still. We made it. At least as far as our first flight…
Continue reading Parte Tres…
The Game of Life: CDMX 