Dusk was racing in quickly and hours felt like minutes. Adaobi and I just learned we were stranded in Costa Rica and needed to figure out a way to get to the nearest city before dark. Anxiety filled the air and the butterflies in my stomach added to the discomfort.
We arrived at the front desk and I asked the concierge to cancel our airport shuttle. It was past check-out and we no longer had a room. The sandwich I stuffed in my bag from the buffet was falling apart, as was our hope.
The concierge remembered us. Those morenas who love speaking Spanish.
We told them about our dilemma and he stared in silence, contemplating solutions. Then Luis, our shuttle driver, came by. He told us he was on his way home and could help us catch the bus to Liberia. We were grateful. For no charge, not that we had any more money, he drove us to an ATM and then flagged down a bus to get us to the city. What luck!
We quickly found a hostel, with 15 minutes to spare before sundown. I’d never felt so relieved in my life. It was time to figure out what I was to do now that I would be alone and broke. Adaobi was worried. I didn’t know how I felt yet.