Airport Bloopers at Newberry

Bex and I arrive at Newberry Airport to continue the next leg or our travels in South America and it’s mass chaos.

We’ve just survived a taxi ride from hell; our driver yelling on his cell phone – at his wife I presume, and then dozing off at the wheel. He managed to do all of this in great style; his hazel locks flying in the winter air. Shivers…We’re back on solid ground now.

We spot the Aerolineas Argentinas sign and weave our way through the crowd. We get in line like everyone else, though nothing appears to be moving. The computer systems have crashed and everything has been delayed. I whip out my camcorder; this is the perfect moment to add another entry to our travelogue!

I’m about to begin recording when I hear the two guys in front of us, well, discussing us.

“So, which one do you like?” he asks his friends in Spanish. “The blonde one or the dark one?” They’re about to get into a ‘deep’ discussion when I turn around, trying not to smirk but visibly failing, “You know, I can understand what you’re saying…” I’m half Argentinean but this is not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a foreigner.

The look on his face is priceless and his friends are in a complete uproar. The culprit sheepishly introduces himself as Diego, and his friend, Mariano.

The ice has been broken.

We get to talking with their group and soon learn that these guys are Argentina’s National Kayak-Polo team! They are on their way to play a tournament in Iguazu Falls.

Since we’re such an international group we start showing each other our passports. Rebecca’s burgundy British passport, my navy blue Canadian passport, Mariano shows as his green DNI. Then Diego opens up his document and realizes, this is not his passport! Staring back at him is the picture of his brother. And let me tell you, Diego did not resemble his brother so impersonation was out of the question.

After all that’s happened I find this hilarious. Diego runs off to his coach to show him the problem. Phone calls are made, and a relative is sent racing across town to bring the correct document to its rightful owner. The computer systems are still down buying him valuable time.

By the time we reach the counter we are sad to see the team go. We exchange e-mail addresses and say our goodbyes all under the watchful eye of woman behind the counter, who shares no sympathy at our parting. “Let’s keep the line moving.”

Lessons learned:

1) You never know who may understand your language.
2) Check your passport before you leave home.


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