Standing by in Santiago

The journey back to Santiago from Buenos Aires was delightful in that it was uneventful. Given the events of the last week we were both grateful for that.

Once we'd arrived at Santiago, we scoped out the airport looking for the Qantas desk. There wasn't one, so we talked to LAN Chile instead - they operate the flight to Auckland and Sydney on Qantas' behalf. We were told that it wasn't possible to tell us whether we would be successful in getting on that night's flight, as the shared Qantas/LAN booking system wasn't accessible until check-in opened at 7:30pm. Come back then, we were told, and we did - after killing some time by heading into town for an hour or so.

We returned to the airport at about 6:30pm and joined the check-in queue which to our surprise was already building. To our even greater surprise, the eight people in front of us all took their turn to line up at the check-in counter, and then didn't load their luggage. "Oh bugger" we thought. Perhaps we weren't the only people stuck on standby. When our turn at the counter came, the check-in clerk fiddled with her computer terminal for what seemed like an eternity, before telling us simply to come back at 10pm.

We returned at about 9:30pm and waited until the throng of people dwindled to those who were on standby. There were about 20 of us. A general air of disinformation and confusion reigned. Eventually the three people who had been at the front of the queue were given boarding cards. No explanation was offered to us or any of the others. Some people got angry, especially when it transpired that despite everything it was still possible to buy your way onto the flight... with a $3700US price tag attached (which more than paid for the cost of bumping some other passenger to the next day's flight).

Completely demoralised, we were left with no option but to spend the night in Santiago. While waiting we had spent some time chatting to Marc, an Irish guy in the same boat as us. He had spent the previous night staying at "Hostal de Sammy" where we had stayed two weeks previously, and knew that they had beds available. It was an easy decision to share a cab back to Sammy's with Marc and vent our frustration by getting drunk in Sammy's back yard.

Sunday morning's hangover turned into the afternoon's resolve to get ourselves on that plane. We arrived at the airport a ridiculous 4 hours before check-in even opened, and so had the pleasure of starting the queue (having seen the three at the front of the queue get on the night before, we were determined not to miss out). Our hopes were raised when LAN's manager even confided in us that as the plane was only overbooked by 5 seats this time, there was a better chance of us getting on than on Saturday. However our hopes were later dashed - no standby passengers would be allowed to board. Wishing that the LAN manager hadn't said anything at all, we stored our backpacks at the airport and got the bus back to Sammy's.

On Monday a terrible feeling of getting used to the drill began to set in. Determined not to waste our cash on overpriced airport food, we went to the supermarket with Marc and prepared a good lunch and sandwiches for later. We got to the airport at 4pm and started the queue again. Amazingly we managed to pass the time quite easily by playing cards and travel scrabble, and greeting the by now familiar faces of the other standby passengers.

Once check-in opened we followed the drill of going to the counter, pleading our case, and being told to come back at 10pm. None of our small group seemed optimistic, and after probably a few too many beers we returned to the check-in counter to see people continuing to check in until well past 10pm - much later than on Sunday. It didn't look good. "Just a few more days of this, then let's sack it off and go to Bolivia or something" was the backup plan that we formulated to pass the time until the date that we would definitely be able to travel - March 8th.

Then apropos of nothing the LAN manager started calling out from a list of passenger names. Two names at first. Then three of the family of five who were on their seventh night of waiting. "Well at least there's some progress" we thought, assuming that the fact that not the whole family would be boarding would not bode well for our chances. But our luck was in. First Hannah's name was called, together with Marc's and another passenger's. Was I not going also? Quickly Hannah and I decided that she should go whether I could go or not. But then my name was called too. Amazed, we headed for passport control, Hannah even doing a cartwheel along the way. At the gate the plane was delayed so there was time for more beers and for sending messages to Hamish and Kirsten in New Zealand... we were on our way at last!

Robin