It sounded great at first. En route to Haiti, our flight arrived in Miami at around midnight and we figured we'd save our employer a little change by cancelling our hotel room for the night and just sleeping in the terminal, since we'd just be getting back up at 4am to catch our flight to Port-au-Prince.
Seemed like a good plan -- we already had air mattresses, and the occasionally magnanimous folks at American Airlines spotted us a few blankets. But in our naiveté, we didn't account for the shrill, high-amph, numbingly repetitive TSA announcements pulsing from the ceilings...or was it from everywhere? So we tossed and turned for hours in a cavernous and empty ariport, beaten by stern lectures not to leave our baggage unattended, all against the backdrop of a chortling third-shift cleaning crew making jokes in Creole above our beds, clearly with no intent to actually work that evening.
Our misery was marked every 15 minutes by an automated woman proudly announcing the quarter-hours. And in between all those voices, Miami's Mayor Alvarez chimed in from time to time on the loudspeaker, dutifully welcoming us to Miami and thanking us for choosing his airport.
Welcome to Miami, indeed. We were so glad to leave, and crawl into a quiet corner in Haiti where, tonight, we are going to get a great night's sleep.
Good to be back.
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