Miami

We are at Miami airport right now, on our way home from Cancun. I knew it was a big airport, but didn’t really appreciate how many international flights pass through here until today. When we got off of our plane, we walked about ten minutes to a Sky Train terminal. We then rode the Sky Train two stops to passport control. We didn’t mingle with any other passengers except those arriving at Miami from overseas.

Finally, about 25 minutes after landing we reached the passport control area, which had a huge array of booths open and we walked right through. Unfortunately our next stop was baggage claim, as Alla had found it necessary to check her luggage. We arrived at baggage claim 30 minutes after landing, and American Airlines managed to begin delivering luggage from our flight about fifteen minutes after that. These guys are seldom quick about baggage delivery.

We presented our baggage to customs with nothing to declare, and left the area right away. Half way through the process, we simply had to re-check Alla’s suitcase (no problem, after a 3-minute walk), go back up to the Sky Train, ride one stop, return to ground level and walk to our gate. Fortunately, we like to walk and we’re in good physical condition. My heart goes out to people who can’t get around well. To their credit, the airlines offer courtesy shuttle service in little electric carts, but I have no idea how to go about arranging a ride. I also feel sorry for travelers who speak neither English nor Spanish. Airport personnel speak those languages, and there are signs in both languages, but everybody else had better figure out what they’re doing because we certainly didn’t see signs in any other languages.

We did hear several groups speaking Russian. In fact, the final customs officer spent a little extra time with us because he thought I said something to him with a Russian accent. Perhaps he’d overheard Alla and me speaking to each other in Russian, but I think it’s pretty amusing that he didn’t immediately realize my nativity. All I remember saying to him was “Cancun,” so I guess he thought I was speaking Spanish with a Russian accent.