The hotel room phone rang at 6:00 that morning; that did not bode well. American Airlines calling to notify that the first leg of our flight to Puerto Vallarta was going to be very late due to weather. We had a connecting flight in Denver to get to Dallas, that would then have us on our way to PV. This row of dominoes was not going to fall as they should have. After a little discussion with my husband, we decided to head for the airport anyway to see what we could do. As luck would have it we were told a flight was leaving in ten minutes on another airline, and were told to run to that counter to check in. Run became the operative word of the day. We checked in, and were told to make a run for it and get to the gate that held the key to our making it to Denver in time for the flight to Dallas. We jumped on the plane as the door was closed behind us; I was never so glad to jostle and cram my way into a middle row seat. Another run for our money when we landed in Denver, one of those airports that has those tram things to get to the proper terminal for your airline. We ran for the tram, there was one imminently ready to depart; I jumped on like an athlete running through the tape at the finish line of a marathon, arms out to balance myself…perfect two point landing, and two business men standing inside the doors of the tram applauded. It was then that I turned as the doors closed, and saw my husband still standing on the platform. Would I ever see him again? We miraculously met up again at the gate for our flight to Dallas. Guess what we did when we landed in Dallas…if you guessed run, you are correcto. Run we did to the gate with just minutes to spare to get on the plane for Puerto Vallarta. What a fantastic feeling to sink into those airline seats to finally relax and know that we had made it. The city lights of Puerto Vallarta twinkled into view as we made our descent and landed. We landed. We could see the lights in the terminal ahead. We sat on the runway. It was night. It was dark. We were told we had landed on the wrong runway, and would have to wait to be towed onto the proper runway to get to the terminal. Worried thoughts of a plane coming in behind us passed through my head as we waited to be towed. Worried thoughts that turned to nervous laughter as a small white pick up truck with only one working headlight pulled up to tow the plane. Travel is always an adventure. You can pretty much count on it.
The photo is of the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Puerto Vallarta.