My new lady friend and I were seated next to each other in the front row (fear not, there was no first class on this flight). We were seated across from the flight attendant in her jump seat so my new friend and her had a lively conversation and I could pick up a little bit so I could nod where appropriate.
The welcome message was in Spanish followed by an English version that was more Spanglish — and more on the Span. I understood her but in the chaos of an emergency, probably not.
The flight attendant did drink service and the flight was bumpy but pretty uneventful. It was definitely dark when we left and I was relieved I had a place to tell a taxi upon arriving in Mendoza.
About halfway into the flight, the flight attendant got a call from the pilots. She made an announcement in Spanish and I paid no attention thinking it would come in English any second.
She never said it in English. But my new friend turned to me and did the translation.
She told me we are turning around.
I thought she was joking. Her face told me she was not.
I said es verdad, es verdad? Is that true?
Apparently the weather was not cooperating — there was too much lightning — and landing would be very dangerous. Cordoba was still the closest airport so we had to turn back. I thought it would have been cool if there was another airport, to see another city, as my itinerary was quite flexible.
I know it was good they were playing it safe but all I could think about was the guy at the hotel telling me about the crash a few months prior.
At this point, everything else was secondary. I just only wanted to get back on the ground. Even if it was back where we had started.