Return to Sender

At five-thirty in the morning, I woke up as one of the American boys got up and moved out for his 0900h flight home. Over breakfast, I was surprised to find he's still here with us. He tells me that it was explained to him at the check-in desk that his flight was actually scheduled for 0900h, yesterday. I wouldn't go as far as to call it schadenfreude, but it was a relief to know that I'm not the only one to do something moronic and have to pay for it. His cost him two-hundred-and-eighty bucks.

Once again, there's no mail this morning. This card was meant to take three to seven days. It's been at least seven days now. The Royal Mail must have, at least, gotten it to Quito by now. In desperation, I embark on a a tour of Ecuadorian post offices. At the first office, the clerk takes my name and walks over to a wall of pigeon holes on a wall. I'm all but praying as the clerk flicks through the handful of envelopes. I imagine her turning around and walking back with the blue envelope I'm waiting for. As she does turn around, that hope turns to thin air, which I exhale with a sigh. She punches my name into a computer. There's nothing. She assures me with confidence that if it were in the country, it would be on the computer. The same scenes play out at two more post offices. I'm hopelessly lost for what could possibly have happened to this envelope.

My father writes "I'll get my Jedi twin to get the cards to you on Tues/ Wed." Every Christmas, as we're finishing dinner, and he's gotten himself nice and drunk, he greatly enjoys to regale the table with his spiritual theories of some thing in a parallel universe that takes care of him. For the most part, his "twin" might adjust the weather in his favour, or get him a discount at B&Q. He doesn't seem to care that everyone at the table is rolling their eyes in equal measure for the theory, and for having heard identical speeches at each of the last five Christmas dinners.

No matter, though. CJ is in Chicago and is bailing me out tomorrow with his US bank account. I'd rather live in the airport than pay Western Union for money. I deeply want to have faith in my old man, or if need be, his "twin", but at this point, I'm almost ready to take the cash and abandon the cards.