“Comedy is catastrophe in hind site,” David Sullivan. © 2015

“Comedy is catastrophe in hind site,” David Sullivan.

“Have you read that article I gave you about Machu Pichu?” Momma asks me on our drive to Gulfport/Biloxi airport.

“Yea.” I reply.

 “Cusco has got population of two hundred and fifty thousand. That’s twice the population of Gulfport.” I think she knew I was lying.

I didn’t bother to read it. Think I have things under control.

I was down; down in the Sacred Valley. Beautiful scenery it is. The streets aren’t paved with asphalt. There were large bricks in the road that stuck up two inches. Made the ride bumpy inside the city of Ollantaytambo. This was just the entrance of the city. It is rectangular shaped with restaurants, hostels, and shops. Shops bargaining food, drink, and authentic Peruvian goods (statues, clothing, and purses etc.).  

Got conned out of sixty dollars to get here from Cusco. My fault for not knowing the exchange rate of US dollars to Solis. Have only forty dollars left. It’s kewl though, I have my credit card to pay for the train to Aqau Callientes (small town three miles from Machu Picchu). “Your card is not going through.”

“No there’s got to be some sort of mistake.”

“I’ll try it again.”

“Okay.” Crossed my fingers.

“Sorry sir. Not working.”

Desperately, I took a taxi to the two atm machines. Neither worked. Paid the taxi driver two dollars. I used a phone in a shop to call my hotel, Casa Del Sol. “Can you guys send me a shuttle?”

“No. Sorry Mr. Holmes.” Damn. Couldn’t pay the three Solis for the phone call. She understood. Now I am lost. Have to some how find my way back to where the cabs are and beg to return to the Cusco air port. Started walking passed homes I didn’t notice before. I’m lost in South America. Wish I would have taken that Spanish class in high school more seriously. Only understood about twenty percent of Spanish. I asks a kid, “Which way to train station?” Thank my LohRd he understood me. I follow the tracks that are outside the city. It’s a skinny dirt road. The Sacred River is on my left, the tracks and side of mountain to my left. Got my clothes, a little bit of food, my labtops,  and camera, in my back pack. Got my carry on bag on my front shoulder.

Fill my water from the streams coming of the mountain. Have no choice. Must stay hydrated. Takes about thirty minutes to get back to where the taxis are. Find public transportation. It’s only ten dollars to get back to Cusco. I explain my situation to some tourists from Australia, “You could get on the internet and try to skype your bank.”

“Thanks.” Went to a café with wifi. Their wifi sucks. Couldn’t get online. Damn my trip is ruined.

Public transportation drops me off at San Francisco Square, Cusco. I have no idea how to get to the air port. I do a photo/film op at the big ass church. Figure might as well make the most out of my plight. Then it occurs to me that all I need to do is find a bank.

I walk the streets. Have to urinate. Took me twenty minutes to decipher my way to the bathroom.

Another ten minutes to decipher my way to a bank. “We can give you money if you show us your Visa and Passport.”

“Kewl.”

“Now it is five ten. We close at five. We will be open tomorrow from nine to five.”

“Oh. Okay.”

After negotiating four cab drivers, I finally got one to take me to the air port. After smoking my last cigarette, it donned on me that there is a 1800 number on the back of my card. Start begging the lady at the airline counter to use their phone. “No.”

Got so aggravated, “I want to take a flight back home now.”

“Sorry sir, our last flight left an hour ago.”

I lay on the floor. Fell asleep. Everything is closed in the airport.

Two hours later air port security guards wake me up, “Sir you can’t sleep here.” I explained my situation several times to them before they understood. “Okay, will let you sleep here another thirty minutes. Then you’ll have to leave. This is a highly secure area.”

Okay, that makes sense. This is near the where the x-ray machines are.

A security guard brings me to a desolate area of the airport. Gestures with his hand for me to sleep on the bench. I quickly fall back to sleep.

An hour passes, another security guard wakes me up. His tone is very firm, somewhat aggressive. “Are you drunk? You can’t stay here. It is unsafe and cold.”

“I have no where to go. I only have enough money to go to the bank tomorrow. I have no money to go to a hotel. What do you want me to do sleep outside on the streets?” difficult for me to have a calm tone.

“Where’s your passport?”

I show him my passport. Then show him my hotel reservation in Aqua Callientes.

“One second,” he calls someone on his cell phone. I am full of horror and dread. I’ve heard that there are crooked police in this part of the world. To add to my despair I start thinking to myself, “What if some one has stolen all my money out of my account. I’m never going to see home again.” For the next five minutes I get all these grim scenarios going through my mind.

He closes his cell phone. Looks at me with a grin, “You’re going to sleep in the police station tonight.”

“Am I getting arrested?”

He ignores me. I follow him to the second floor, into the airport security station. He has me sit down on a bench. He’s talking in Spanish to a couple other security guards. Then leaves the room. He comes back ten minutes later with a small mattress and a wool blanket.

“Follow me.”

I follow him into a back room. He sets the mattress on the floor. “You sleep here.”

“Gracious Senor,” two words of about a dozen Spanish words that I know.

“Yea.” He grins.

Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. I pray at the foot of the mattress.

“Are you Muslim?” He asks me.

“No. I’m Alcoholics Anonymous.”

He wakes me up at five thirty in the morn. I thank him. Then go to the first floor of the airport and sleep until nine thirty.

Go to the information center near one of the entrances. Inquired the best way to go to the bank. They were very helpful. They called me a taxi that took me to San Francisco Square where there is another information center for tourist. This center also had a bank.

I hand the personnel my passport and visa. Request for five hundred dollars to be taken out of my account. I go to the bathroom knowing that I don’t have any money.

“Mr. Holmes, here is your five hundred dollars.”

I get half in Solis and half in US dollars. Feeling empowered that I was able to persevere, “Thank you, my LohRd.”

  I buy a round trip train ticket to and from Aqua Callenties. Another taxi driver takes me back to Ollantaytambo. Three hours later I’m on a train Machu Picchu bound. It’s an hour and a half to get there. Being bored, I take out the article my mother had given me.

The author writes in the first paragraph, “You may find it a challenge to get to Machu Picchu. You will have to take a cab to the Inca town of Ollantaytambo. From there you’ll have to take a train to go to Aqua Callientes. You also have to be aware the money exchange ration is three Solis to one US dollars.”