1. We never expected to find ourselves stranded
in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean right after 9/11,
but my aunt was on pilgrimage. Matters of the heart.
Her late husband. Even a new pacemaker didn’t deter her.
I said surely we won’t go, her heart. The operation.
Surely we won’t go, the plane ticket will be canceled,
but there we were, running the gauntlet through a security flank.
Soldiers with Uzis at the bombed airport, looking grim.
It all began as a lark, we said, sure we’d love to go with her
to the Azores, never dreaming the world would fall apart.
Thinking we were safe on an island in the middle of nowhere,
we said sure, but we didn’t know we were on a US military base,
also a staging ground for Kuwait. Cargo plane after plane
landing in succession like clockwork on the hour,
refueling for home—Langley AFB, where myriad pontoons
waited for transport to the front lines, all this was before
we knew that we were gearing up for war with Iraq.
2. My cousin asked, what does sexto mean?
I was writing in my journal and didn’t want to be bothered.
It means sixth. She asked again, what does sexto mean?
I repeated myself. Then we heard the sound of the ferry horn
as it left the dock. The penny dropped, sexto, the sixth day.
Saturday. We ran to the dock as the last ferry of the season
disappeared into the marine mist. A cascade of missed flights.
We were stranded on an alien shore, an island
in the middle of nowhere, without a common language,
and no way to get to the mainland, or back home.
3. Having missed the ferry, and our flight,
I ran to a taxi driver parked near the empty resort,
all the tourists had left for the season, saying
ayudame, ayudame, a universal call for help.
I was thankful for the linguistic continuum
that allowed us to somehow communicate—
with enough arm waving to fuel a windmill,
or to become Italian. He took us to the tiny airport
where they said no more tickets, none. End of season.
He persevered, an opening to Lisbon, business class?
She said impossible, no tickets for tourists. None.
He explained we were stranded, we had tickets, see?
She nodded, but slapped on a penalty, 40,000 eschudos.
This was on top of our plane tickets. More money
than our entire flight from San Francisco to the Azores.
He argued, they have family here, she relented.
By this time, the taxi driver was an uncle.
We hugged him goodbye, boarded the plane,
not knowing how we would get from Lisbon to home.
That ship had already sailed.
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