On my way to Peru

This was written yesterday while I was on the plane. If I have internet in Iquitos tonight, I'll post for today.

And we’re off. Well, I’m off, and quite a few of my closest friends, all crammed into a plane I wasn’t supposed to be on.

So, things didn’t exactly go off to a smooth start today. Concerned that there might be travel problems (thinking about the last time the government bought my plane tickets, when I went to C4 in October and arrived at the airport at 0430 to find that the tickets hadn’t been purchased), I left home on the Metro at 0900 for a 1245 flight, got to Reagan a little before 1000.

And, surprise, surprise, the tickets hadn’t been purchased yet.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy of a fix as it was last time. There’s all sorts of bad weather at Dallas/Ft. Worth, so the emergency line at Carlson-Wagonlit was quite busy. After being on hold for forty minutes, I was told that they didn’t have a copy of the authorization from the WRAMC travel office (just like last time), so I faxed the orders and called back. After another thirty-five minutes on hold, they told me of all sorts of other problems with the orders. Long story short, after spending more than two hours with my phone against my ear, I missed the opportunity to get on the flight I was supposed to be on, and ended up on a flight on Delta (instead of American) arriving two hours later. Unfortunately, the people in Lima had already arranged for me to be picked up at the airport when I arrived, and although I emailed them about the change as soon as I could, I don’t know if anyone was checking email today to get the message.

Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

I’m actually not in Peru yet—just off the coast of Colombia, according to the in-flight map, at 2115—forty-five minutes until I’m supposed to be landing in Peru, and two hours and forty-five minutes until I do.

Unsurprisingly, all of this stuff not going well put me in a rather bad mood (and I can see my parents feigning shock at that—‘what? Lisa not taking two hours of things not going the way they were supposed to, followed by a change in travel plans, well?’), which got me started on the “what am I doing and why am I doing it?” line of thought. I’m going to a country where I don’t speak the language, re-writing all sorts of internship rules while doing so, to research diseases that I find very interesting, but have little more than a passing knowledge of. Oh, and I’m doing this alone (at least until I get to the lab tomorrow morning), and I don’t know if I’m going to have a ride from the airport to the hotel or not.

And I spent six months working on making this happen. What was I thinking?

I’m sure that I’m just inventing all sorts of problems in my head and unnecessarily stressing myself out. After all, I’ve done this before—I landed at the airport in Papua New Guinea in pretty much the same state of mind and with the same uncertainty of the plans, and I ended up where I needed to be without any problems.

According to the flight information screen, two hours and nineteen minutes until arrival.