December 18, 2021
Day 25: Cancun to Cobble Hill
When we started this trip, the main uncertainty and hurdle seemed to be slipping our batteries through airport security. But now for ending the trip, the batteries faded way into the background. Instead we were dealing with things like PCR testing, ArriveCan, and Vuela Segura. But more than that, when your systems are based on two healthy people - like two to carry the carry ons - and when one is not only knocked out but also needs help, then it can become a real challenge.
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Fortunately, help appeared for us at every point where it was needed. Jorge got up at 4 a.m. with us, helped load the taxi, and then came along with us to the airport dropoff. Even so, it was quickly apparent that I could not push two carts and a wheelchair, with any kind of speed at all. That's where Alberto appeared. He did not exactly work for Westjet, but rather the airport, though he coordinated directly with Westjet. Alberto/Westjet ushered us to the front of the line, where they processed our various forms and bicycles without a blink. Except for one thing - did we have a doctor's ok for the crippled Dodie to fly? Oh, oh.
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What happened next was that Alberto conducted us over to a medical station, where a doctor asked some questions and then produced an authorization form. Back to Westjet with this, and boarding passes in hand Alberto took us through the handicapped security. Since Dodie's knees make the scanner go wild, they needed to do a manual search. But "Ayee, don't touch that shoulder!!" gave them something to deal with. I think in the end they gambled that this lady was not carrying too many dangerous items under her arm. While this was going on, our batteries slid through with only a quick glance. No need for all the documentation I had brought to establish that they were permissible.
Over the past week, Dodie and I have figured out toilet procedures, since it's devilishly hard to do your pants up and down with only one hand. At the airport we set off in search of the family washroom, but found it locked. So this was my first time in the "ladies". It sounds trivial, but I have put in over 70 years of never trespassing in this sacred territory. It reminds me of an old joke where the punch line is "Close your eyes, ladies, I'm coming through!".
Inside the ladies was a handicapped stall, but this appeared to be locked. So we prepared to try a regular stall. But before we did, the handicapped opened, and out flounced a perfectly healthy young woman. And when we struggled back to the handicapped seats at the gate, we had to evict a healthy young couple from the clearly marked seats we had been using. At least they didn't have to be swatted with the cane!
I spoke to the people at the gate about having someone wheelchair Dodie up to the door of the plane, and I already had her in a wheelchair that I had found at the next gate over. Here is where the Mexicans, or rather one Mexican, decided to stand on procedure of some type. She kept asking if this was Dodie's personal wheelchair, and when informed that it was just one I had found, this seemed to trip a fuse. She insisted that she would call for assistance, and they would use "their own" wheelchair. So she had us stand aside, while all the other passengers piled onto the plane. So much for pre-boarding. Seeing this, Dodie said to the lady "Ok, I'll just walk down there, but if I fall, it's on you". With this, the lady physically barred Dodie's way, and insisted she wait for the assistance. Eventually the assistance showed up, in the form of .. Alberto! and he just whipped Dodie down in "her own" wheelchair.
The flight was quite trying, because we knew Dodie could not use the washroom. So we drank nothing. Also Westjet seems to have used Covid as an excuse to provide few or no services. Their aircraft had absolutely no entertainment options. and for food their main offering seemed to be little bags of dry pretzels. For US$8.99 we did also buy a tiny box containing some bizarre form of egg product and sausage product. Actually this was quite a good deal, compared to the 200 peso sandwiches on offer inside the Cancun terminal.
The real "fun" in terms of any social/medical content for this blog entry, began on landing in Vancouver. Westjet had organized "Dylen" to meet the plane with a wheelchair. Dylen was a calm and totally sweet young man. He explained that although we had come in at a gate directly next to the one from which our flight to Victoria would leave, we had trek off - what really seemed like a couple of km - to international arrivals, immigration, and the Covid whatever. Particularly because Westjet had been about an hour late in leaving Cancun, this put our connection at risk. Something we have also heard about happening to other people - on the news. Fortunately, Westjet was consistent, and was delayed two hours for the 15 minute flight to Victoria, leaving us all kinds of time to fool around in arrivals.
One thing of note here, to this point nobody had looked and nobody would look at the ArriveCan receipt I had struggled so long to obtain, and nobody looked at the Mexican health QR code, that I had stayed up to get, to meet their "must be completed no sooner that 12 hours from departure" rule. Only the Covid PCR negative reports had been closely examined - at Cancun check in.
Down at arrivals we first encountered a nasty young man in a booth, who I took to be Canada immigration, though I do not specifically remember if he had a uniform, or identification on his booth. His main role seemed to involve the Covid testing. He began by asking Dodie "what happened to you?", to which Dodie replied "I don't know, speak to my husband". With her continually varying degree of concussion brain fog, this was within the realm of responses that Dodie might do. But now, stepping outside of what we expect from any Canadian official, the man replied "I'm speakin' to you, ma'am". With this he scrawled a red "T" on an 81/2 x 14 piece of paper that I didn't get to see or read, and Dylen and us sailed on by to a lineup, which seemed to comprise everyone from Cancun that was headed to Victoria. At the lineup, about five obviously hastily assembled workstations had people collecting contact information. Our operator had me repeatedly checking her turned around laptop screen, taking care to repeat that any error and things would go awry at the next station, whatever that was to be. The operator then scrawled a 6 digit number on a Post-it note and put it into our passports. With that Dylen and us sailed on.
Next stop was a set of four medically set up booths, where our operator demanded "Where is our form?" "What form? all we got is a 6 digit number", said I, proferring my Post-it note. With this she grabbed the note, and ran off, with my words "And there is one for my wife" fading in her wake. After a time she returned, clutching a "form", and now I showed her the other number, causing her to run off again. Upon her return, she invited me to sit on a chair in her booth, and she began to assemble some swabs. "Ok, whoa", I said, "so you are going to do some sort test?" "Is that a PCR, or a rapid test, or what?". There was no response. So I repeated my question, and she seemed to allow that it was a PCR test.
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Now look, I am the furthest thing you can find from a conspiracy theorist, or rabid personal freedoms guy, but really, you are reading now the story of a citizen having a medical procedure performed on him without any form of informed consent, without being told what or why, or when results would be forthcoming, or what to do until whatever. And this despite having been triple vaccinated, and PCR tested 72 hours previously. I can only conclude that the Canadian government is panicked, and wildly flailing about.
But, the story marches on. It turns out that in doing all this cruising about, we had popped out of the secure zone. So now as Jacquie Gaudet had mentioned, we had to go back through security. This included Dylen, the airport agent, who still had to turn out his pockets,take off his shoes,or whatever. I was not watching Dylen, because now we had the "classical" Dodie security problem. Her metal knees cause their scanner to go beserk, so OK, they need to do a manual search."Don't touch my broken arm", says Dodie. "We have to touch every part of you", was the reply. "Touch it and I'll scream", was the response, leading to a standoff. Consequently a supervisor was called, who treated me to a lecture on security and threatened that without a thorough search, Dodie was not going to fly. "How did she get here from Cancun, then" I said petulantly. "If Cancun did not do their job properly, it's not our concern", was the response.
Eventually they more or less pretended to touch the arm, avoiding a scene in which an old lady in a wheelchair is screaming abuse in public. Meanwhile, on the other side, staff is pulling out each of our 12 batteries and squinting at each one's wH rating. And here I had worried that it would be Cancun acting as the bureaucratic sticklers.
Well CATSA, I am pleased to report that the old lady did not pull a gun from under her fake broken arm and hijack your little plane to ... Seattle?, and neither did a hidden 101 kW hour battery, disguised to look just like the 11 other 98 kW hour batteries explode and take your plane out of the sky. So you can sleep soundly tonight, knowing that you did your bureaucratic duty.
Dylen (now thoroughly searched for what he said was the dozenth time that day) and us now sailed on through to that original gate, where Westjet was still waiting for their plane to arrive from Kelowna. I phoned Marvin from my "Mexican" Telcel SIM, which worked dandy, and reached him waiting at Victoria Airport, where the screens were still giving an overoptimistic arrival time for our flight. I asked the Westjet agent at the gate when she predicted we would get to Victoria, and this glued her to her screen for as much as 5 minutes while Marvin and I waited for the answer. She finally came up with a "guess" of 5 p.m. Based on that, Marvin left the airport and found some food he rather enjoyed, in the nearby town of Sidney.
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Here is where we realized that our vaunted Canadian conditioning to cold had been wrecked by the weeks in Yucatan. We had not brought warm clothes in the carry on, assuming that Canada actually has heating. But Westjet had parked their plane way out on a tarmac, and I was freezing, Shaking, actually.
And on the Victoria, side, way out on a tarmac again.
Fortunately Marvin had thought to bring Dodie a warm coat. And we quickly noted that despite a clear super spreader event in which crowds of people were trying to collect their luggage from a selection of flights all arriving at the same time, our stuff had been carried out and dumped at Westjet baggage claim desk. It somehow arrived on an earlier flight - maybe it had not had to wait for covid testing?
I pulled my wool hoodie from one of the bags, and in the warm care of this, and our good friend Marvin, things began to return to normal. On the way to our house Marvin stopped by his house, so we could see his extensive Christmas lighting display. In Yucatan there had been a very small smattering of Christmas decoration, but clearly here in Canada Christmas in our own interpretation is in full flight. We will be nostalgic, though, for those Advent parades into the church, or the crazed cyclists with unidentified virgins strapped to their backs!
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2 years ago
Please, give us the occasional update on Dodie's progress.
Remember, take care of yourself also.
I'll bet it felt great to sleep in your own bed last night.
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Leslie & Rob
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Btw that cat looks huge! Are you sure it won’t break Dodie’s legs?
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We decided some time ago that in general German Konditorei is the best in the world, showing more variety on average than in France. However, the pastries in Galeries Lafayette in Paris are quite spectacular!
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