After an eight hour wait at the Miami International Airport, I board Saturday night and safely get off the ground for Montevideo, Uruguay.
Scheduled to arrive Sunday around eleven, the plane does, and we leave our transport and form yet another line to go through Customs.
This night flight has been a mix of crying babies, lights going on and off, flight attendants moving up and down the aisles passing out pillows and eye shades. One guesses any group of people can be difficult and four flight attendants are needed because there are hundreds of passengers on this red eye flight.
Customs in Montevideo goes rapidly. All you need is your Passport. They don’t ask for proof of a return flight, only ask how long I will be here and where I am staying. Getting checked bags is a breeze.
Uruguay is now more than a shape on a world map. It is not a country on the tip of everyone’s tongue and is near the bottom of the alphabet, not far from Zimbabwe. Uruguay sounds like something you can catch in Africa, but I didn’t need shots to get in and the country comes well praised in travel magazines.
Without a flag to plant, or anyone to meet, I have arrived.
Weary, I will soon curl up in the crook of the U in Uruguay and hold the letter tightly till sleep covers me like a warm blanket.