If we were on the show Amazing Race we would have been eliminated for sure. We were taking an overnight bus from the town of Cordoba to Salta. Usually my complete neurotic personality, while annoying, keeps us on track. This time it completely failed us.
We had flown from Buenos Aires to Cordoba. After a few days in Cordoba we were headed for the town of Salta.
I’m the first to admit we have way too much luggage.
But, when we bought tour first class overnight bus ticket we were assured there was more than enough room for all our luggage. I even insisted we bring the above photos to show them when we bought the tickets. The ticket seller said it was fine.
Our bus left at 8:15pm. I insisted we leave our apt at 6:30. No way were we missing this bus. Jeff protested, but after some serious marriage negotiation we got to the bus station at 7:00p.m. We stood at the bus terminal and watched as buses headed to all parts of Argentina came and went. I strode up and down the terminal monitoring each bus. There was no way a bus could come into the station without my knowledge. Jeff thought I was overdoing it, if the bus pulled in surely we’d see it. I agreed, but nervous energy kept me pacing up and down.
At 7:45 a bus with the words Salta plastered to the front of it rolled into the terminal. Jeff and I wrangled all 5 pieces of luggage to the bus. The driver didn’t want to take Jeff’s bike suitcase. He had to pay “a little extra” to get the driver to accept it. Finally, the bike and our huge suitcases got loaded in. It was a relief to see them safely on the bus and the luggage compartment door shut.
Then we handed our boarding ticket to the driver who informed us we had the wrong bus. This was the 8:30 bus. Oh, and what do you know, our 8:15 bus had already left. It seemed impossible. I had memorized ever bus and where it was gong. There was no way a bus for Salta had pulled in without my knowledge. What’s the point of being neurotic, nervous and checking and double checking if you still miss the correct bus?
Our luggage was on the 8:30 bus, but we were not. We waved goodbye as everything we currently owned drove off to Salta without us.
The next bus we could get on was at 10:30. It cost extra to change the ticket for a lower class of service. As we sat in the station the same thought went through both of our heads, “I just want to go home. I’m too old for this sh*t.”
But then we got on the bus, got served a tray of different kinds of ham sandwiches: rolled ham sandwich, thin ham sandwich, regular ham sandwich. We watched a Jennifer Anniston movie, reclined our chairs and went to sleep.
The next morning we arrived in Salta and our luggage was waiting, untouched at the bus office. It only cost a “little extra” to get it.
So what seemed like a potential disaster worked out fine in the end. The travel gods were watching over us yet again.