Flying on Mexican Time

If you are friends of mine you know that I often say we run on Mexican time. You might find that term endearing, funny even, until you've invited me and my Mexican husband to dinner or to a party and we arrive a good fifteen to twenty minutes late. For the record this makes me uncomfortable and a bit fidgety, but after a few heart felt texts and a gift or two of champagne or salsa, ceviche, or even some amazing homemade guacamole, are tardiness will hopefully be forgiven. However, it wasn’t until I traveled through Mexico on a Mexican airline, that Mexican time became a real entity and not something that I just thought G made up.

We arrived at the airport and unlike in America where everyone seems like they know where they’re going, walking with a confident purpose to their gate, here I noticed that there was a lot of standing around and sitting in a large open area.

Many people were staring at the bright blue monitors hanging from the ceiling. G beelined it for the monitors himself and did his fair share of staring. I didn't say anything, just let him do his thing. At this point I just assume that he knows what he's doing, maybe it's foolish on my part, but I've always been a believer that if there's too many cooks in the kitchen someone will eventually get burned, so I am usually more than willing to let him take the lead. And besides all that, this is his country.

I did find out that he was looking for the gate that we were flying out of, which hadn’t been assigned to us yet, even though we had already checked in, made it through security (fun fact, you don't have to take your shoes off when going through security in Mexico, but the three oz. liquid rule still applies), so the only thing to do was to wait it out.

Finally, we decided we might as well eat something, because this particular airline does not serve any snacks or beverages once we got on the plane.

Of course the most important part was the wine, for me at least, and I got to walk around with the plastic glass full of it, that was my favorite part and it really allowed the sharp edges of my anxiety to dull a bit.

Finally, our gate was posted and we rushed to head that way to only get in a line, if this can even be called a line, I really couldn’t tell.

It’s important to note here that if I was by myself, I would probably be extremely stressed out, mainly because I really didn’t know what was going on and the language barrier would only add to that, although there were surprisingly a large number of English speakers. G suddenly moved us to this much shorter line, why? I don’t know, but I followed his lead anyway. This new line did not appear much shorter than the first, but who am I to question and besides that, follower here.

By this time it was already 4:00, the time when our plane was supposed to take off. The only people that seemed concerned was the English speaking family who had a connection in Mexico City to Chicago. They were adamant that there was no way that they would be able to make that flight and could they change their destination to Queretaro; the adult son was more concerned that there would not be a McDonalds in that particular airport and what would he do then? G assured him that there actually was a McDonalds in the Queretaro airport and then a sly grin appeared on his face. I knew something was up after that and I was right. He bent down to whisper that there was a Burger King and not a McDonalds in that airport. Ha ha. When I told him that for real McDonald connoisseurs, which this boy man seemed to be, this was not the same thing, he chuckled before saying, “You got to give the boy some hope right?”

The family was eventually assured that yes, they would in fact make their connecting flight in Mexico City, so the boy didn't need to have worried to begin with. Their grumbled sighs and harried expressions let me know that they had little hope in the attendant's promise. Their concerns, however, were holding up the whole process of boarding for the 100 or so other people waiting behind me.

I had a feeling the attendant just wanted them to go away and I don't really blame her for the crowd was crowding and the noise was noising. It was, in a word, chaos, but one that actually seemed to be an organized one. I looked around and all of the other terminals were much in the same shape. Large crowded non lines quickly forming as people waited, not really seeming that concerned with what was happening around them.

There were a few angry voices raised in our own non line as people were told that we could board first since we were sitting towards the back of the plane. Front seaters, who paid more for their seats, were not too pleased with those instructions and I don't really blame them, they did pay more after all. We eventually made it onto the plane without an ID being checked although I held mine up like I thought they would question my identity and refuse my entrance.

The plane took off 20 minutes after it should have; aka Mexican time. Unfortunately, the plane landed 40 minutes after the time that it was schedule. I have no idea if that family made their connecting flight to Chicago, but if they didn't, there is a McDonalds in the Mexico City airport so the boy man will be happy with that little bit of good news at least.