Billy Bass Goes To Chile

There are two kinds of women in this world. There are high maintenance women and there are low maintenance women. And then there are the worst kind: the kind that think they are low maintenance but in actuality, are high maintenance. Much to my dismay, I have finally concluded that I am a part of this terrible kind…because I have yet to go to the airport without being charged for an overweight suitcase.

“This red one here is 8 pounds overweight, ma’am” says the man at the concierge desk. “And this black one, well it’s uh, right around 7 pounds overweight.”

I stare at the bags. Look at the man. Stare at the bags. How could that be, I think to myself? I left the cowgirl boots and the dresses and the hairdryer and the tank tops, and the dictionary and the jeans…

Two words: high maintenance. No other explanation. Trying to embrace it.

In a pursuit to avoid the $100 overweight fee, my Mom and I began to rearrange my suitcases and create a carry on. Among the first items to fall out of my suitcase was the billy bass singing fish that I brought for my Spanish host father who loves to fly fish.

“Mind if I weigh the fish?” asks the concierge, trying his best to speed up the rearranging process.
My Mom and I look up. Is this guy serious? He really wants to weigh the fish?
“Depending on its weight, it might be better to take the fish on your carry on” he says as the fish goes on the scale.
“Yup, you’re better off taking this with you on the plane. This fish weighs 4lbs.”
We all look at the fish sitting on the scale and begin to laugh. And so, the fish is packed in my carry on, and I’m off to security.

Getting through security was equally as funny as check in.

“Lady, you know you got a fish in here?” The man asks as he holds up my bag.
You’re kidding me, a fish in my bag? I sarcastically say in my head.
“Yeah, it sings too,” I say with a smile.
The security guard looks at me curiously and waves me to be inspected further in a glassed-off area. He pats me down, and then, just as I was hoping, he pats down the fish as well. He then sends the fish through another small security machine…and by this point, I am laughing out loud. I say something along the lines of “something looks fishy here”…get a smile out of the security guard…and am free to make my merry little way to my gate.


The fish has been named "Mateo" after his father, Matt Brennan.

Upon arrival at my gate, low and behold, I find my good friend from college, Joelle, waiting for her flight. We arrange to sit next to each other and spend the entire flight to Miami interrogating the Chilean next to us about Spanish slang and life in Chile. It was a great flight and we raised our cervezas to new life in Latin America.

From Miami, I hopped on my flight to Santiago. I have no recollection of my flight here because my sleeping pill knocked me out for seven straight hours. Between traveling and a week of exams this last week, I was exhausted. Sleep felt good, especially because I was waking up in another country.

Arrival at the airport this morning is still quite a daze. Ernesto and Milka picked me up; they both welcomed me with big smiles and open arms. I look forward to telling you about them and their children in a future post. For now, I am off to bed because I have another big day tomorrow: the first day of the internship.

Chao,

Lindsay