A series of unfortunate events: Chapter 4; Drone.
The story continues with the unfortunate… fortune of my drone. Oh, and this happened on the same day as chapter 3, my cousin’s operation. Just so you can get a clearer image of the worst day of my life (so far).
Part One: Cuba Airport.
I reach Nassau airport, check in, get myself a donut because F U thats why and board my flight. For reasons that I can’t mention, I’ll just let you know that one more tiny little thing happened whilst being on the flight to Cuba that has caused me some turmoil. But that’s another story for another time. Let’s just say that I probably became really dehydrated from all the tears I cried out those what, 12 hours?
I finally arrive in Cuba, I go through passport control with positive vibes blasting through my aura. Why was that? Perhaps it was my mental attitude wanting to make the most of it. Or, perhaps, it could be that I might be bipolar. Whilst going through customs, the officer turns to me with a blank expression and says:
-“Drone?” and I say,
– “Si” (I don’t speak Spanish) and he says,
-“No”, and I say,
-“Que No?” (Again, I don’t speak Spanish) and he says,
-“No Drone in Cuba” and I say,
-“Lol, you’re kidding. Right?”.
And he was not kidding.
This is the point where I felt like I was in ‘Modern Family’ and I just pretended to stare into an invisible camera, expressionless. All the while the officer was trying to speak to me in Spanish, knowing that I didn’t speak Spanish. Turns out, drones are forbidden in Cuba. #Politics.
To continue with this tragedy, I ended up spending three and a half hours at customs. With hardly any sleep. All the whilst not having a clue whether my cousin made it out alive or not. #NoSignal. Three and a half hours of crying, laughing from exhaustion and trying to communicate with a bunch of people who spoke no English whatsoever why I had a drone in the first place. We barely managed to communicate (thanks to my binge watching Narcos and Casa de Papel and thus, teaching me the “basics”). Oh, and to put the cherry on top of the cake, imagine trying to explain to Spanish speakers “Vamos Bitchachos” with a straight face.
At least they then had realised that I wasn’t a threat to them.
So to fast forward, they took my drone with all of its accessories and promised me they would give it back upon my departure from Cuba. I left the airport four hours later, made it to the hotel, found my mom, cried a little bit more and finally… slept.
My time in Cuba was fantastic. But again, that’s another story for another time with ‘What to do’, ‘What to expect’ and an ‘Itinerary’ coming to theatres near you! Back to the shitty part now.
Part Two: Departure
I couldn’t wait to leave so I could get my drone back. I was told to be at the airport three hours before my flight. Oh, did I mention that this trip was an organised tour trip with a total of 47 grown women? And yes, I made all of these women get to the airport three hours earlier so I could get my drone. My mom was fuming.
So I go to security where I was told to go, and that’s when it all started. They took me to another terminal away from my group, had my ticket taken by one person, my passport by another and my drone receipt by another. Three different people at three different points. #ParanoidMuch?
Dumb and Dumber
They had me waiting with two very… useless people. For the sake of this blog post, I’ll refer to them as dumb and dumber. And I don’t mean to be mean but that’s all I can be cause I am, whatever you say I am. (#GettingCarriedAway). Of course dumb and dumber spoke absolutely no English, kept on talking to each other while completely ignoring my presence. An hour later, I started to lose my temper. I started asking questions to which they couldn’t answer and realised that my chances of seeing my drone again were getting slimmer and slimmer.
To cut the very long story short, I threw a huge tantrum in front of 4500+ people and as a result, a few of them came to my rescue. After talking with dumb and dumber, they had managed to tell me that my drone was nowhere to be found.
*And that’s when the MEGA BITCH was born. Using her ultra-bitchy powers, Vamos, Bitchachos has dedicated the next hour and a half of her life to throwing tantrums and cursing anyone in her sight against the forces of Cuba*
They mentioned that if I were to wait for my drone, I would miss my flight. Which was in two hours. That’s because my drone was in a different terminal. I mean, are you f*!$ing kidding me. Even if I were in f*!$ing Heathrow and had to walk from Terminal 5 to Terminal 3, personally search for my drone, find it and walk back that wouldn’t take that long. I started to give up.
Part Three: Donde esta mi drone?
I very passive aggressively told dumb and dumber to take me back to the terminal with the rest of my group. Then, three Cuban ladies started to dramatically argue about my situation and I just stood there watching them being… useless. How hard can it be to solve such a simple problem:
“You are searching for your done in an airport that has three terminals. You are currently in terminal A but the drone isn’t in terminal A or B. There’s an abundance of workers that have absolutely nothing to do, and you have two hours to find it. What do you do?”
Anyway, I had completely given up. Thankfully, other group members took over and helped my situation by speaking with a few people but, sadly, I left Cuba empty-drone-handed. In efforts to avoid sounding unappreciative, I did leave Cuba with unforgettable memories, experiences and life-long lessons. Things that aren’t irreplaceable, things that money can’t buy.
The hero of this story is the Cypriot Ambassador in Cuba, Mr. Stelios, who took matters into his own hands and arranged to get me my drone back safe and sound. And that he did! He personally collected my drone (from terminal C) and brought it back to me in London! HOORAY!
“I know! Straight out of a telenovela, right?”
So kids, the moral of the story is, carry out the appropriate research prior to traveling to any country. That is:
A. know the do’s and dont’s
B. know basic words of the spoken language
C. it’s best to know the appropriate people to talk to in case of an emergency, i.e. ambassadors.
And that’s the end of the Series of Unfortunate Events. That is, the series that I can disclose online. I really hope you enjoyed reading this version of blog posts, and hope you had fun reading about my misfortunate. Maybe even learnt a thing or two?