Peru Day 17

Day 17 – Last day in Peru.  I wander around again
today, spending more time at the beach watching
the surfers.  They aren’t as good as the surfers that
I saw in Hawai’i in January, but still entertaining.  I
think one can only be as good as the waves they
have to practice on.  But really I have no idea. 
After wandering most of the day, I return to my
room and pack up.  I have to check out at noon. 
After check out, being excessively tired for no
apparent reason, I sit in the bar of the hotel and
pass out watching a really bad movie.  At some
point, I hear some guy at the bar ordering a
scotch.  Thinking this was some old dude, I really
didn’t move or open my eyes.  I do realize quickly
though, that he’s decided to sit next to me. 
course, now I wake up and see that it’s not an old
dude, but actually someone that could be around
my age or younger.  So, I go grab a beer and then
we spend the afternoon chatting.  Turns out he is
from Oz and is going on the Inca trail the next day. 
His name is Richard and he’s very cool.  He tells me
about his adventures on some of the islands he’s
been to on his way to Peru.  I give him the
rundown on the Inca trail.  Eventually, 2 other guys
– one from Britain and one from India – join us.  We
have a few beer and then go for dinner together. 
They end up saving my last day in Peru from being
excessively boring.  After dinner, I hop in a cab and
make my way to the airport.  However, 5 minutes
in, I realize my camera is not with
me.  SHITE.  I
tell the cabbie to turn around – again in my broken
spanish – and he says NO.  NO?  I’m livid. He has
no idea what I’m saying to him.  Anywho, I figure
I’ll just call the hotel when I get to the Airport and
arrange something.  We get to the airport and then
find out that mr. cabbie doesn’t have his papers to
get in.  After 30 minutes sitting there, the police
finally let me through. I’m not amused.  The airport
line up was insane, but luckily they let me through
quickly.  Until customs.  Then I just happened to
pick the most anal customs agent plus the line that
had the dumbest people bringing the most bizarre
carry ons.  For example – a guitar case.  I’m sorry
sir, but that can not be stowed in the overhead bin,
under the seat in front of you.  DUMBASS.  I’m
not feeling all that well – probably a combination of
pollution, car sickness, diesel fumes, impatience
and maybe the octopus I had for dinner.  Oy, this is
painful.  Eventually I get through and head to
Dallas.  Oh, and I call the hotel but they have no
idea where my camera is.  I think someone swiped
it.  CRAP.

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