Interstate 10 from Surprise to the Phoenix airport is slowed to six miles per hour at seven in the morning.

Our clock is ticking and our plane departure time is absolute.

Alan and I exit the freeway and head south to Buckhorn Avenue at 51st street, then east towards the airport. With detours, and uncertainty, we end at the airport and find the Terminal 4 parking garage, slide into a small space for compact cars, and get ourselves to the American Airlines check in desk.

On the airplane, all the way to Mexico, there is the back of a head looking at me. I keep trying to visualize it with eyes, a nose, a mouth, a personality. But, it is just a thatch of graying hair holding up a set of earphones. To my left is a porthole window whited out by the sun.

 Alan tries to catch up on sleep in the window seat. Dave, a friend of ours who is staying at a rv park in Tucson and joining us on this expedition, is seated in the front of the plane. He hates flying and has to bring oxygen because of his bad lungs.

After two hours we three land in Mexico and have to endure still another security screening.

This is a price you pay for being warm when back home people are wearing heavy jackets and shoveling snow.

Being deemed no security threat, we three catch a cab to our hotel, change into shorts, and watch palm trees sway in the breeze above a cool blue swimming pool as babes turn into bronze statues.

Up to now we have just been talking Mexico. Now, we are doing Mexico, or Mexico is going to do us.

Another foreign country is getting into Scotttreks, this time with company.

 

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