We met at the hotel in São Paulo at 4 p.m. Mark immediately started to complain about something—Being thirsty? Being tired? Can’t remember already. Feng went to the bathroom to change to his jeans and he put on a long-sleeve t-shirt. I booted my laptop and wrote down an address on my notepad.
“We’d better go before the 5 p.m. downpour…”
The sky was already getting darker and darker.
There was a taxi just outside the hotel—yes, São Paulo–Guarulhos International Airport please.
“What time is your flight?”
The taxi driver seemed surprised. Were we going to the airport too early or too late?
“How long is the trip?” I asked.
He checked the current traffic conditions on his phone. “70 minutes.”
That’s what I expected. Guarulhos is a different municipality, after all.
We made it to the airport in less than one hour and also paid less than I had estimated. Brazil is always full of surprises.
“You go first, then,” Feng said.
Every story worth reading has a twist.
At 7:20 p.m., I boarded a plane to Argentina.
At 9:30 p.m., Mark and Feng boarded their plane to Canada.
I’m on my own, now.
Kind of like a spinoff of the Feng-Juliette-Mark franchise, I guess.