The shortest path to disappointment is attachment to an outcome.
Go along for the ride, enjoy the sights, and eventually you'll end up where you are supposed to be (which if you are lucky is where you originally intended).
Yesterday morning started off just like any other layover - roll out of bed early, double check kit, check flight status, check out from hotel and hop the shuttle to the airport.
Slip the driver a 10 note (Real to CDN is about 3:1) which is followed by some extra help getting kit onto a cart. A bit of courtesy (obrigado vs gracias) and a few extra dollars. Sometimes it can pay dividends down the road.
Bee line for the info desk in Terminal 2 of GIG and ask about the location of the Azul checkin. No need to repeat myself and the instructions were quite clear. The airport is certainly making an effort to ensure English is the second language used throughout in advance of the Olympics. The state of the terminal expansion on the other hand leaves one to wonder if they will be done in time. It is Latin America after all and things get done when they get done (refer to ‘Italian Savings Time’ for the European variant).
At the checkin, looks like a pair of flights are stacked - one at 0932hrs and one at 0945hrs (mine). Line up moves at a snails pace. One of the automated checkin kiosks for those without baggage is out of commission and the remaining two appear to be commandeered by a pair of tech neophytes (if the look of frustration and impatience of those behind is any indication).
Plop into the queue. Inch along, inch along, inch along. Checkin - hand over passport and itinerary. Motion at conveyer, lift glider bag, query “OK?”.
“Ok.”
On goes the bag. I get a boarding pass, the bag gets a tag and I’m off to security.
At the X-ray, I start pulling out the baggy of liquids. The security staff want no part of that and motion for me to put them back in. Nice to see not every country in the world is petrified of such nefarious tools of terror: toothpaste and saline.
At the gate, I get the first sign things are about to go “Frak it, we’ll do it live.”
All flights involving my connection - Belo Horizonte are listing as Atrasado -> delayed.
No matter the airline.
Mine slips 45 mins and jumps 3 gates until we have something to board - looks like an Embraer take on the A320/737. Seating is 2+2 throughout, leather. Legroom is better than the North American domestics.
Service offerings are curious - water, OJ, or Coke Zero (??). Bagged salted snacks are handed out by one of the attendants followed each time by what sounded like ‘bom chi chi’.
Mid way through the PA kicks in and I get my first lesson in Brazilian airlines - the longer the announcement, the worse the news. I have no clue what is being told my fellow pax, but the rolling of eyes says enough. I turn on the inflight entertainment system and select the map view. We start one of many figure 8’s to the east of Belo. Storms? I can only guess because there is next to no turbulence. Flying in the Mid-West, the first sign there might be a storm nearby is the drop followed by the loud bang of the wings catching lift again. Then the seat belt sign. Than maybe an announcement.
Here, nothing but figure-8s.
PA comes to life. The message is longer. I hear Campinas. I pull out the inflight magazine and look for the airports Azul uses. Campinas is their main hub, 600 kms SW of here (in exactly the opposite direction I need to go). Just as I hope I misheard the announcement the map shows a quick turn west, an acceleration to 790 kph, and a climb to 10k meters.
O…k…
Campinas, it is.
Then just we pass over Belo, another announcement, short. People clap. The map shows a turn north and a slowing.
Maybe Belo?
Descending.
Belo.
A few small bumps on the way down, a few showers.
No sign of any storms.
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