Victoria – San Jose
Up at 0300 to catch an 0600 flight. Victoria to Toronto is relatively painless except for the lady beside in our row who, bless her, keeps trying to engage us in enthusiastic conversation. With what little sleep I have had though, I can barely maintain basic conversation etiquette and eventually just end up slowing putting my earbuds back in while making vague disclaiming gestures and laughing nervously. Oh and as we land this guy a couple rows over starts just violently rage-puking, and I mean RAGE-puking like nothing I’ve never heard – it’s got force like some kind of volcanic exorcism, the poor bastard. Toronto to San Jose is less memorable except for, you know, the fucking miracle of human flight!
After running the familiar gauntlet of dubious airport taxi offerings we find our ride to the hotel in Alajuela, which is a cute little box shaped town just West of San Jose with a charming sort of colonial park square and, for some reason, many pharmacies. Most importantly though, Alajuela contains our hotel, which contains a bed, on which sleeping can be accomplished much more effectively than on airplane seats – time to pass the f*#@ out. Goodnight moon.