Weather in Atlanta on Wednesday was our downfall. Our arrival from Detroit was late – the plane had to circle for a bit because the airport (which supposedly had closed for a short bit earlier in the day due to crap weather) was backed up. By the time we got off of the plane, we had 40 minutes until our next flight was supposed to take off. And it was running on time.
We hauled ass to the international terminal, thrust our passports at the ticketing agents at the gate and – miracle of all miracles – had time to stop for Qudoba.
The flight was about as good as an 18 hour flight could possibly be. We slept. (Lauren slept more thanks to her friend Ambien.) We watched movies on the seat-back televisions. I attempted, unsuccessfully, to finish a Sudoku puzzle. We ate unsatisfying meals, including some funky concoction called a “posh wrap.” And we checked the flight progress on the seat-back televisions. Frequently. Too frequently.
Time passed really, really slowly. At one point during the flight, I found myself naïve and blissfully optimistic. The flight attendants were bringing around breakfast and, for whatever reason, I equated breakfast with a fast-approaching arrival. Wrong! We still had eight hours go to.
A few movies and an attempt at finishing Eat, Pray, Love (take it from me: doesn’t live up to the hype) later, we really arrived.
And the fun was just beginning! First, we ran to the Vodaphone store to pick up an inexpensive cell phone to use during the duration of our trip. Next, it was off to ticketing kiosks.
I think I’ve mentioned FIFA’s ticket policy before. Basically, tickets aren’t shipped to the purchaser. They must be picked up in South Africa. They set up kiosks at the airport (as well as a few other places around Johannesburg) and, actually, it was quite simple. All we did was swipe the credit card that we had purchased the tickets with and – viola! – they printed immediately. Very fancy. Isn’t technology great? (Almost as great as having our tickets mailed to us would have been.)
We got to our hotel with no issues. Three cheers for that. Our room is teeny tiny – especially with our five (5!) suitcases stuffed inside, but it is working out really well. Significantly better than the charred remains of the room at our old hotel would’ve worked for us.
After settling in, we jumped into a taxi in search of one thing: food. No, that isn’t true. We were searching for two things: food and the South Africa/Uruguay game. We succeeded in finding both. We watched the second half of the match (which, sadly, South Africa lost) and filled our shriveled bellies (it had been, like, 60 whole minutes before we last ate. And if you don’t understand that, you’re probably not a Hansche girl.).
At the conclusion of the match, we headed back to the hotel and fell into bed. It was only 6:00 pm at home – midnight in South Africa – but our bodies had no idea what was going on. So, we slept. Let me tell you, kids, it was some good sleep. Good, comfortable, not-in-an-airplane-seat sleep. The sleep of champions!
Which is exactly the kind of sleep that we needed. Because today we saw Argentina play South Korea and, let me tell you, Argentina looks like a squad of champions.