**Off topic** cAPS' Mitch story. -Part Two-
>>Where were the busses?
This was exactly the question I asked the person who seemed to be in
charge. He was calm but he looked upset when I asked the question.
Several other folks had gathered around to hear his answer.
"I didn't want to have to tell you this", he said, "but there has been
a complication. The workers who are completing the road - I am sure
you saw the construction on the way down... Well they are striking for
better pay, and have blocked the roads with boulders, and their
bulldozers, and other earth moving equipment. We are communicating
with the Mexican government, and I assure you we will get the busses
here as soon as we can, but for now it is not possible for them to
pass."
Needless to say I was in shock. The lives of 200 tourists, plus the
hotel staff had just become bargaining chips in a strike negotiation.
As I look back on it I can think of no better example of 'a rock and
a hard place'. All we could do was wait. We didn't know if the storm
had changed, but the last we heard, it was to make landfall in hours.
The water continued to rise in the lobby as we, and most of the other
guests simply waited. We were standing in a shin deep mixture of
ocean and sewage, for hours. Storm surges continued to come, and
stronger every time. About 5 AM the power went out. We heard hurried
instructions to start to make our way to the road. I was reminded of
a scene from the movie 'Titanic' (I had actually already been
feeling like we were living a parallel story) as we walked up the very
slight grade (unlike the sinking ship) towards the road. We had been told an hour before that the road was
cleared, but now they were having a hard time finding drivers for the
busses. The ones who were brave enough to be working were busy
evacuating other areas. What would happen next? Would we eventually
be forced to forge into the jungle to try to find shelter? Rain bands
had been hitting (lightly thankfully) for quite a while and we were
all soaked. In about an hour the busses arrived.
We were taken to Merida which is a pretty large city on the western
coast of the peninsula. It was a four hour bus ride. They found us
hotel rooms, and for the first time in what seemed like days we were
dry. Even in this city they were taping windows, and preparing for the
storm.
There's alot more to the story, but I will be suprised if anyone has
actually read this far. I'll wrap it up.
We stayed in Merida (in the same stinky clothes.. I had to buy some
shoes as mine smelled like sewage) for three days. The storm had
stopped sometime early Tuesday morning weakened, and headed south.
The rest is history. I have spent some time praying for the poor
Hondurans.
They bussed us back to Cancun. And we spent a couple days there
resting, and flew back to the states.
In hindsight it proves out we had little to fear. But at the time I
KNEW we were in grave peril. I had accepted that I could indeed be
watching the unfolding drama of the end of my life. Fear was not the
overwhelming emotion. It was a kind of helpless melancholy that I
felt.
I wouldn't trade the experience for anything (although I am working on
getting a full refund ha ha) This deeply changed my perspective on
life. I don't think we are far enough past it to fully realize the
effect.
Back home... the first morning I was here, I came down with a nasty
Spanish speaking bacterial infection. Vomiting, diareah, 102 degree
fever. I have still not fully recovered. They have me on an
antibiotic.
Next year I am gonna just stay home. :)
cAPSLOCK |
