What to say? Our last day. We were sad, but I won't dwell on that. We woke up early and had one last insanely fast taxi ride to the airport, only to find our flight was delayed by four hours. We hung around the airport, made a sweet kid's day by spending a buck on some gum he was selling, and nibbled on the free crackers and chocolate the airline had provided to us as an apology for the delay.
When we did finally board the plane, it was only to fly about an hour away to Santa Cruz, where we needed to get off and wait for a bit while the plane was searched for drugs. We didn't mind too much, but there was this one guy in front of us who got raging mad at the inconvenience. He started yelling at anyone who would listen about how ridiculous it was, and how stupid the flight attendants (who, clearly, had made the decision) were. Jo and I couldn't help but laugh, but the guy was a real jerk and we probably wouldn't have been laughing as much if we had been on the wrong end of his rantings.
Other than "Que Ridiculo!" the flight back was pretty uneventful. I think Jo and I were in that post-awesome-trip daze that made the mood somewhat subdued. We did see this guy, the closest thing to a living Duane Hanson I think I've ever seen. He was walking around muttering about the idiotic layout of the airport in Miami.
See the resemblence?
On that note, the Bolivia blogs will end. So sad. But Jo and I fully plan on doing lots more traveling in the future, so I do suppose we'll have something to look forward to.
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