Costa Rica or Bust!

After a year of preparation and two weeks of serious physical and mental deconstruction, we finally reach our day of departure and set out for paradise. Sick, tired, crazed, and equally excited, we pack up our lives and our family into six bulging boxes and two cat carriers and head for the Oakland airport to catch a midnight flight to Houston, the first leg of our 24-hour journey toward our new life. We are barely conscious, running on fumes, and have only gotten this far with the help, support, and love of many family members, friends, and neighbors, without whom we would still be running in circles in our living room and speaking in tongues.

Northern California has decided to give us a truly characteristic send-off and the rains pound the freeway as we make our way from Sonoma County to the East Bay. This is purportedly good luck, which is good news because we’re feeling like we need it. With the help of Deneene’s parents, who are staying at a nearby hotel and have come to see us off, we make it to the airport alive and awake (so far so good). Check-in is crowded and while we wait Wilder falls asleep on Grandma’s shoulder. Just as we begin to check in and the nice lady behind the counter starts to scrutinize all of our overweight luggage, Wilder wakes up. He’s pissed and disoriented and starts screaming. Deneene goes to try to calm him down and he vomits. As she changes his clothes, he continues to scream as if he’s being beaten. He’s half naked, screaming, and our luggage still needs to be checked in. In fact, it needs to be unpacked because after checking in three overweight boxes, the lady behind the counter is not letting us get away with the 90-lb box full of computer equipment, books, and kitchen knives. Wilder eventually calms down and we’re forced to abandon a selection of heretofore crucial items and send them home with Deneene’s folks.

We finally make it to the terminal and as we approach the X-ray machines, security orders us to take the cats out of their carriers and carry them through the metal detectors. Though they are drugged, this is not a feat we’re confident can be safely executed. Chasing two freaked out felines around a crowded terminal is the last thing on our list of desirables. We argue and stall and eventually they let us through without having to risk the cats’ escape. In what we think is an act of related punishment, our large carry-on bag gets tagged for inspection and we spend 20 minutes watching the contents of our meticulously packed bag get disassembled. Once we’re on the plane, Wilder sleeps fitfully and screams often. Deneene doesn’t sleep, Chris barely dozes; thankfully the cats are too petrified and comatose to do much.

We arrive in Houston at 6am (3am California time), starving, tired, sneezing, coughing, and Wilder is still barfing. We eat, wait, clean up, and board the next plane. The next leg of our flight is fairly uneventful; Wilder sleeps almost the whole time and is full of energy once we touch down in San Jose.

Getting the cats through customs is no problem; they could have been ferrets for all the attention customs paid to them. Of more interest is the computer equipment we’re bringing into the country, which they want to keep and send to a special holding location for several days while they discern whether or not we can have it. A few kind words and $100 tucked inside Wilder’s passport helps us to bypass this situation and enter the country with all of our belongings. We get our rental car, some drive-thru food, and begin the last leg of our journey – a 4-hour car ride through the mountains.

24 hours after leaving Guerneville, we arrive at Casa Mariposa. Even sicker and more tired than when the journey began, but safe and sound, we all gratefully collapse into bed – finally home.