GetSetJetSet

This trip takes place about a month after the events described in my last trip report (Paris to New York: The VERY Scenic Route). For reference, and or more familiarity with my trip reports, there's also the 64 installment epic: Four Continents, 1,000,000 Beers

We had been loosely planning a Colombia trip for ages, but this is how it finally came together, or rather how it constantly evolved.

I started off booked JFK-BOG-CTG in Avianca J using United miles. I purchased a return flight CTG-BOG in AV J and BOG-EWR in UA J.

As the trip approached, I had to switch my inbound from AV to UA, meaning it would now be UA J EWR-BOG and then AV J BOG-CTG. Those segments went swimmingly for the most part, but unfortunately, my BOG-EWR return flight was due to land the day that Superstorm Hurricane Sandy hit NYC. I ended up canceling that flight via a travel waiver and re-routing BOG-MIA (AA J), MIA-ORD (AA F, where I spent Halloween) and finally ORD-CMH (AA F) where I ended up working with the Romney campaign through the election before finally returning to NYC on UA F. It was a very long weekend I suppose.

I will try to post these updates direct in FTalk (as well as providing the links to the originals) since that seems to be preferred.

So:

Preface

Flights:

EWR-BOG (UA J)
BOG-CTG (AV J)
CTG-BOG (AV J)
BOG-MIA (AA J)
MIA-ORD (AA J)
ORD-CMH (AA F)
CMH-EWR (UA F)

Hotels:

JW Marriott, Bogota
Hotel El Caribe, Cartagena
Mondrian, Miami
The James, Chicago
Hilton, Columbus

GetSetJetSet

In the time since my return from Chile, I had not been idly lazing around New York. I was doing my best to fight any chance of falling into a routine. Two days after landing back in NYC, I was back at the airport, flying to Columbus, Ohio to see the Ohio State v. Cal football game.

Shortly after that jaunt, I was out in Utah attending the wedding of a childhood friend in Park City (Delta’s mid-con F product is not my favorite). While in Utah, I booked a long trip out to Los Angeles to visit other friends, and chase a girl. The planning for that L.A. trip really drove home how utterly useless Delta’s aptly lampooned “SkyPesos” are. When looking for a one-way transcon in Business, the mileage redemption rates (when there were seats to be had) were sky high, and there were heavy fees associated as well.

In the end I booked United J on a Boeing 757-200 with the int’l BusinessFirst flat bed seats for 25,000 miles and perhaps $2.50 in fees. On the return, I flew AA 3-class F LAX-JFK on a 767. The UA flight was a pleasure, and I have stated many times that I love the BusinessFirst seat. It was a 6am departure, and I slept the entire way to LAX.

The AA flight on the way back, was terrible. They have dirty, old planes, surly flight crews, and their 3-class F product was substantially inferior to the UA business class product.

This trip confirmed two things for me. I still dislike Los Angeles, and I still consider AA to be the worst of the remaining major carriers.

Back in NYC, I continued planning with N and E. We had been talking about going to Colombia for a long time, but there had never been a sufficient window of time. Finally, N found a way to sandwich this trip into the middle of his work schedule with a weekend, a day off and some creative routing. He also talked another of our fraternity brothers into joining, as well as a pal from Chicago and another from Indiana.

The dates were set, all that needed to be done was flight planning.

I originally booked a 1-way N.America to Northern S.America award with 35,000 United miles and left the return open ended. My initial plan was to take the Avianca (AV) direct from JFK to BOG. After some push back from 3rd parties who didn’t like the idea of a longhaul flight on Avianca, I swapped my US-Colombia segment to United EWR-BOG. The downsides to this were legion. The Avianca flight arrives in Bogota early enough to make a same day connection to Cartagena while the United flight arrives close to dinner time. Additionally, the AV flight is on an Airbus A330-300, a widebody aircraft with int’l business class caliber seats. The United flight is on a Boeing 737-800 that has the same seats you would fly on domestically from say NY to Miami.

United has way too many designations these days. There’s “United Economy,” “United First,” “United Business,” “United BusinessFirst,” “United Global First,” and god knows how many others. The EWR-BOG flight is classed as “United Business,” because it’s not domestic, so they can’t call it “United First,” and they certainly don’t offer the BusinessFirst product, so “United BusinessFirst” is also out. Basically, United created the “United Business” classification for international routes on which they fly domestically configured aircraft. They give you a beefed up meal service, there’s no amenity kit, and being in a domestic seat for a 5-6 hour flight is no walk in the park. In short…avoid anything you see advertised as “United Business.”

Anyway, the trip planning went further awry from here. I eventually purchased a CTG-BOG AV flight and a BOG-EWR return on United…then Hurricane Sandy decided to hit NYC the day my flight was due to land. That flight did not so much happen. I canceled my United ticket and re-routed CTG-BOG with an overnight, BOG-MIA the next morning with two nights in MIA. MIA-ORD with one night (Halloween) in Chicago and then ORD-CMH where I would join the Romney campaign through the election. Finally, after that unsuccessful bid, I returned CMH-NYC on UA thus concluding one of the longer “weekend” trips I have been on.

But in the beginning, there was Newark Airport…

GetSetJetSet

I had been looking forward to this trip for weeks. Even while I was flitting around the U.S. doing other things, I longed to get out of the country and go somewhere new.

I can't say I was particularly looking forward to nearly six hours in a domestically configured Boeing 737-800, but it didn't matter, I was going to Colombia.

I got to the airport early, as is my custom. I wasn't checking any bags, so it was just a quick stop to pop out a boarding pass at the kiosk, and I was on my way to security. Once through, I paused at the window to snap a photo of an (I believe) Boeing 737-900 in Continental retro-livery, and then I made my way to the United Club.



It feels strange admitting this in print, or anywhere outside my head for that matter, but in the United Club near the int'l gates in Terminal C, I have a favorite cubicle that I like to post-up at while waiting for my flight (it's #7). It was available, so I dumped my gear, grabbed a water from the bar and some cubes of cheese before popping open my laptop to grind away the time until boarding.

About 15 minutes before the expected boarding time, I packed up my electronics and went down to the gate to snap some photos of our equipment before boarding began. There was just one problem, the plane was not at the gate. Due to a late inbound (I think from BOG), we would be delayed nearly two hours.



This was a problem for me, not because I had a connection, but because it killed any chance I had to do even a little sightseeing in Bogota.

Since the UA EWR-BOG flight gets in so late, there is no possibility to connect on to CTG the same day. So, I had planned to try and see a bit of the city before going to bed and catching the early AV BOG-CTG flight. With this delay, we'd be getting into BOG so late that there wouldn't be much time for anything other than maybe a quick dinner, then bed. Such are the perils of commercial air travel.

I went back up to the United Club to charge my phone until the new boarding time.

I returned to gate C128 at the appointed hour to find that UA 1068 to Bogota was now ready for boarding. I stowed my bags in the overhead and dropped into seat 1A, I was hoping the bulkhead would provide a little extra room for my 6'4'' frame and make this long glorified domestic sector a bit less painful.

The F (Oh i'm sorry, J) cabin was full for this flight. Despite EWR-BOG being an international flight, United frequent fliers are eligible for complimentary upgrades to the front based on status and all the usual parameters. As such, I don't think this flight ever goes out with empty seats in the pointy end.

There's not much more to say about the flight itself...it was sitting in a domestic seat on a narrowbody aircraft for nearly six hours. The meal service was better than the slop you generally get domestically, but nothing to write home about. The only noteworthy thing about it, was the fact that the main course option I selected was a mixture of chicken AND beef, I don't think I've ever seen that before either aloft or on the ground. Usually whoever designs the menu picks one or the other...oh well, it wasn't bad.





Once we landed at BOG it was rather late, and the airport was dead. As the contents of our plane spilled towards immigration there wasn't much backup, and I was through the border in short order. Since I had no bags, I was quickly out into the dark Bogota night, in a car and on my way to the JW Marriott to get some sleep so that I could be back at the airport in the morning.

GetSetJetSet

There's not going to be a whole lot about the JW Marriott in Bogota. By the time I actually arrived at the hotel, it was closing in on midnight, and I had to be up early for my next flight to CTG.

The physical plant itself is slick looking, the lobby is very modern and polished and check-in was quick and painless. A pet peeve of mine is when nice hotels try to charge for internet. If you're already paying $400 / night for a room, it just feels like a kick in the teeth for them to try to gouge another $10-20 out of you per day for internet...especially when hostels and crappy hotels generally offer this for free. It's not 1993, the internet isn't costing you a lot of money hotel...have some respect for your customers.

Internet is NOT free at the JW Marriott in Bogota. They offered me some sort of package that was one day of internet access as well as breakfast in the morning for maybe $20. I told them to go ahead and toss it on my bill. I just wanted to get upstairs and lie down after my lengthy stay in the uncomfortable United "business" seat.

There didn't seem to be anything open in the vicinity of the hotel, so I left my bags near the entry to my room, ordered some room service, and watched TV for an hour or so before going to sleep. There simply wasn't time for anything else.

I would have been able to furnish you wish more information about the JW Marriott and perhaps even about Bogota from my second stop here on the back end of Cartagena. That is, I WOULD have been able to do so if I wasn't a broken shell of a man after three nights in that town.

On my second swing through Bogota, I went right from the airport to the JW Marriott, again had an easy check-in experience, this time declined the breakfast as I knew I wouldn't wake up for it, and slept from the early evening until it was time to go back to America.

So really, all I can tell you about the JW Marriott is that it's a great place to rest up before and after wild beach related benders.

JW Marriott Bogota Report Card

Pros: Nice looking common spaces, decently sized rooms with comfortable beds.

Cons: Lousy room service, surrounding neighborhood is pretty dead at night.

Verdict: It's a great place to convalesce, and I think it's probably the best hotel in Bogota. I would like to return to Bogota to see it properly, and if I have the chance to do so, I would almost certainly choose the JW Marriott again.

GetSetJetSet

When I checked in, I had paid for breakfast, but when my alarm went off I decided that 30 minutes of sleep would be better than eggs. Surely Avianca would have some sort of free food in the lounge anyway, right?

I settled my bill with the desk staff at the JW Marriott and had them hail me a cab back to BOG. It was time to travel again. Instead of the international terminal, this time I needed to be dropped at the smaller domestic terminal to catch my connecting flight to Cartagena (CTG).




At this point, I was still alone. N was headed for Colombia from Chicago via Houston. Our 3rd brother from college was coming from Boston and meeting N in Houston for the UA connection on to BOG, and N's two friends Chicago and Indiana were taking a different routing into Bogota and spending the night there before connecting on to Cartagena. There were a lot of moving pieces.

At the domestic portion of BOG, Avianca has a little room for their business class check-in, it's almost like an office separated from the rest of the departures area. When I got to the head of the line, I verified that I had a window seat, and asked the women to please make sure that my UA FF # was on the ticket. As it had turned out, there was no award space BOG-CTG on the dates I needed, so I was now stuck flying revenue.

The agent told me they did not have my United # in the file, and asked me to write it down. Handing her back a piece of paper with my # scrawled on it, I didn't have a lot of faith that the miles would ever make it to my MileagePlus account...to date they still have not.

Security was a breeze and I went from there to Avianca's lounge. It's not a very nice lounge. There's not much in the way of seating, the wifi is spotty at best and there's not much on offer. I grabbed a bottle of water a chicken skewer wrapped in (I think) bacon and tried to find a place to sit down and mess around on my iPad.



When it came to be what I thought was the assigned boarding hour I tried to depart the lounge. Before I could leave a woman demanded to see my ticket. She told me the flight was delayed and that I couldn't leave the lounge until it was boarding. Several times after this, I tried to leave the lounge and head closer to the gate, but I was rebuffed each time, even after the big board in the lounge showed that the flight was ready for boarding.

Finally, I snuck past the guardian and walked down towards the "gate," if it can be called that. Of course, the flight had already begun boarding.

I got a quick snap of our Airbus A320-214 (registration: N448AV), as this would be my first flight with Avianca.

Once on board, I saw that a very hot Colombian woman who I took for a local celebrity was seated in 2A with what appeared to be support staff from her entourage in the surrounding seats. I say that I took her for a celebrity, because I don't know Colombian celebs (or most American ones for that matter), so I have no idea if she was famous or what for. That being said, while we were in the lounge, numerous people, including some of the lounge staff approached her and asked to have their pictures taken with her, so something must have been going on there.

The Avianca shorthaul J seats are plush and very comfortable. They have seatback IFE screens, but for a flight this short, there was nothing to watch but the airshow. The biggest surprise for me, was that there was no service, not even a bag of peanuts. They came by for drinks once, but I was only having water, I'd wait until later to kick things off.






The flight was short and uneventful, AV9752, 408 miles from Bogota to sunny Cartagena. As soon as I breached the doorway and started down the airstairs I took my jacket off as the dense heat of the coastal region washed over me. With the sun, the heat and the proximity to the ocean I started to get excited for what lay ahead. We were going to get ourselves into trouble.

GetSetJetSet

The terminal at Cartagena isn’t much. With no checked bags, I was through the tiny baggage claim hall and out in front of the airport minutes after we disembarked.

Cartagena has a reputation as a bit of a tourist trap, as it’s the most heavily visited part of Colombia by total tourists per year. That being said, we came before the heart of the season, and I think we saw less than ten non-Colombian people the whole time we were there (our group excluded).

When it came to choosing a hotel, we did it the only rational way. The debate in our e-mail chain came down to one simple question. “what hotel did those secret service agents who got in trouble for soliciting prostitutes stay at?” We figured if it was good enough for the secret service, it was good enough for us. This is how we ended up at the the Hotel El Caribe, or as we would come to refer to it “the luxurious 5-star Hotel El Caribe.”

Even though Colombia has long since shed it’s 1990′s leftover reputation as a lawless and violent place, old thought patterns die hard, and so when I hopped in a cab and told him “Hotel El Caribe,” I also punched the address into my phone and watched myself via GPS to make sure the cab was taking me the correct way and not kidnapping me. Apple can be rather nifty.


(Salt in a 1g plastic baggie, really Colombia? Really? Definitely helping to change perceptions...)

I was the first to arrive. We began referring to the hotel as “the luxurious 5-star Hotel El Caribe,” because while the hotel has classed itself as a five star, it’s really more of a 3-star kind of place. It would be the kind of hotel you’d stay at if you were going on college spring break and staying at a higher end dump.

That being said, the rooms had great air conditioning, reasonably comfortable beds, there was a pool, a bar and multiple restaurants. While it’s a bit over priced, the proximity to the beach made up for it.

I figured if the secret service stayed here, there must at least be a decent gym. I dropped my bags and walked off in search of it. The gym was not nice…there was no aircon in there, and it was left open to the outside world. As such it was about 90 degrees in the gym, a bit hotter than outside by virtue of there being no breeze. Almost all of the machines were broken, so there was nothing but a meager selection of free weights. not exactly top draw.

After my workout, I went back to the room, showered up and hung around the immediate vicinity of the hotel for a while. I had dinner on the grounds and then drank a few Club Colombia beers (excellent beer) poolside and watched a large group sing karaoke.




Even though the rest of the guys weren’t arriving until the next day, and I speak maybe 10 words of Spanish, I figured I would head out for a bit on my own and do some advanced scouting.

When the karaoke finished up, I sunk the remainder of my beer and went through the lobby to grab a cab. The internet told me Mr. Babilla was the place I wanted to be.

It took me a minute to figure out their entry system. You need to walk to a window on the right side of the entrance, buy a ticket, then return to the main line, wait, then present your ticket to the bouncer to gain entry. Those patrons who want to smoke (shockingly no smoking allowed inside in Colombia), get stamped on their way out, and can re-enter without waiting on line.While waiting out front in the humid, sweltering Cartagena night, I was dripping with sweat in a button up linen shirt and some lightweight pants. Thankfully the aircon was cranked up high inside.

The bar was absolutely jammed, which was both good and bad. Mr. Babilla is not a super place to go by yourself…especially if you don’t speak Spanish. Most of the patrons were seated at tables with their groups. There was precious little space at the bar, and most of it occupied. I posted up at a few of the different bars around the place drinking beer, then whisky, then vodka straining to overhear some English so I could find some people to talk to, but with no luck. I managed to run into some French people and hung out with them for a little while, but I knew everyone else would be arriving ready to go in the morning, and I figured since the night wasn’t going amazingly, it’d be better to retire before 3am and save some energy for the next day.

It was a good decision. Before 10am the next morning, N and Boston were chain calling me trying to wake me up. Their room wasn’t ready and they wanted to drop their stuff off in my room in the interim.

Once they swung by, I was already mostly wake, so the three of us went to breakfast. Revitalized afterwards, I got a quick workout in, then the three of us went over to the pool bar to start drinking. We ran into Indiana and Chicago who were already there having lunch.

We merged tables and five or six rounds later we figured we should go check out the old town and perhaps find a bar there.

We walked up and down the old town, which is reminiscent of a pirate port of call and a bit like what I imagine Havana was like in the early part of the 20th century, but were unable to find a good place to drink. Since N, Boston and I had not had lunch, we eventually ducked into a place for food and several more rounds of Club Colombia.




When N and Boston first arrived at the hotel, they met a local at the edge of the driveway named Jorge. He became our “guy,” who was tasked with procuring whatever we needed during our stay, he was pretty amusing.

When we left the old town, Jorge met us at the edge of the El Caribe’s driveway again and took us down to the beach. We settled in at a bar for mojito’s and more beers until the sun went down.

We all agreed to pool the mixers in our respective mini-bars and convene in N and Boston’s room since they had a large store of duty-free liquor for the pre-game.

There are several different buildings at the El Caribe and despite all the rooms being the same price, the quality is vastly different. I discovered this when I got to N’s room which had modern furnishing, flat screen TV, etc…as well as a view of the water, while my room looked early 90′s vintage with a tube TV and a view of the parking lot…oh well, we didn’t spend much time in the rooms anyway.

We started the pre-game exceedingly early, perhaps 8:30pm or so, and before long we were most of the way through a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Vodka. The quote of the night was undoubtedly from Chicago who in an non-ironic manner randomly asked “is anyone here a Ke$ha fan?” before launching into a Patrick Bateman-esque monologue about the virtues of her music. Oh Colombia.

The internet had confirmed to the others that Mr. Babilla was supposed to be the place, so we all went there. We got there very early. At first this seemed lousy, since the bar was fairly empty, but it allowed us to get an excellent table. Liquor is basically free in Colombia. I think we ended up running through three or four bottles of vodka, as well as mixers and in the end the damage was maybe $30-40 USD per person. In the U.S. you would be adding zero’s to that for such a large quantity of bottle service.

It was the Friday before Halloween and the bar filled up rapidly and got completely out of control. Boston was the only Spanish speaker in our group, so in the early going we used him to liaise with our waitress, but by the third bottle he was so incoherent that our pidgin Spanish was far more understandable that whatever language he was speaking.

Likewise, there was no issue meeting local girls despite an almost complete lack of ability to converse.

The most surprising thing was their actions vis-a-vis alcohol. At home, or in most of the developed world, you get bottles at a club and girls will come out of the wood work to mooch free drinks, then many oddly vanish when there’s no more free booze.

Here we were offering these girls free alcohol since it cost nothing, but they insisted on hanging out at our table and not accepting any drinks. On top of this, since apparently many of the locals are rather poor, they couldn’t afford drinks inside, so they kept going out front to drink from bottles they had hidden in their purses and inviting us to come out front with them and drink their smuggled booze.

This made no sense, and we tried to explain that the alcohol wasn’t expensive, but it was to no avail…more vodka for us.

As I mentioned, the party got a bit out of control. If you haven’t seen a bar full of liquored up Colombian people dancing to Gangnam Style I suggest you check it out. Somewhere on the internet, there’s now a picture of me with pink bunny ears taken from the head of some girl I was dancing with. Super.

Everyone went in search of a new Colombian girlfriend and we fragmented as the night wore on towards the dawn.

The next morning. Miracle. No hangovers for anyone. N and Boston woke up to go diving, which I would say is madness, but N has done this so many times before. He went diving in Koh Tao after the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan, he made it out diving in Sharm after our compressed Cairo debacle, he always manages.

When I met up with them, N and Boston were especially chipper, they said the force fed oxygen during the dive crushed any chance of a hangover.

It was a Saturday, a college football Saturday, but there are apparently no bars in Cartagena that show American football.

We went down to the beach, and Jorge secured us some places. More Club Colombia, a little swimming and a little sun.





Then, we went back to the hotel, pulled out N’s laptop and all drank beers as we watched Ohio State throttle Penn State.

After the game, everyone was pretty worn out, so we decided to take naps and reconvene for dinner. I was completely exhausted, and just wanted to sleep all night, wake up on Sunday and go back to Bogota. I went into my room, purposely didn’t set an alarm, turned the lights off and tried to go to sleep.

I told myself if they didn’t call me and force me to meet up, I would just sleep through the night and not go out. Predictably, they continued calling my room until I woke up and demanded I come over to pre-game. I tried to fight it, but they made a compelling argument. It was Saturday and it was our last night in Cartagena. I relented, took a shower and went over to N’s.

After a few cocktails, my mood improved and we were back at it again. Everyone else had Halloween costumes, but naturally we hadn’t packed any. How were we to know Colombians take Halloween seriously? The previous day we had joked about finding a place to buy black suits, ties and white shirts as well as ear pieces, so that en masse we could go as secret service agents, but it was much easier to drink on the beach than follow through with that pipe dream.

As a result, we showed up to Mr. Babilla in our normal clothes. It was overflowing with people, and we had no chance of getting a good table. After a few drinks we left to head up and down the strip of bars near Mr. Babilla, stopping in and checking them out, then moving on. We checked out at least a half dozen bars, but none of them were as good as Mr. Babilla, so we ended up back there and managed to snag a semi-decent table. Back into the cheap bottle service.

This night was not as epic as Friday and the only good that came out of it, was that Chicago managed to land some Colombian girl, go back to her place with her AND not get robbed/stabbed/murdered.

We all convened for breakfast on Sunday, heard Chicago’s stories, chastised Boston for making out with a fat girl and vowed to spend every Halloween going forwards in Cartagena.

N, Boston, Indiana and Chicago had early flights going from BOG to PTY. From PTY they would then be splitting up to their various destinations.

Knowing I would be in bad shape on Sunday, I had scheduled a later AV flight from CTG to BOG, so when they took off for the airport, I went up to my room to nap a bit before it was time to go.

Basically, Cartagena is like college spring break without Americans. Same party atmosphere, lower prices and great weather…also, Colombian girls are both hot AND fun. Strong buy.

Hotel El Caribe Report Card

Pros: Across the street from the beach, pool, bar, decent rooms, room service, reasonably priced, lols related to the secret service hooker scandal guys staying there.

Cons: 3-star pretending to be a 5-star, sweltering gym with broken equipment.

Verdict: I would absolutely stay here again. Too many funny memories associated with the place to go elsewhere. When the new Hyatt opens I’d consider it, but the El Caribe has more character even if it isn’t a true luxury property.

GetSetJetSet

When it came time to leave the luxurious 5-star Hotel El Caribe, I was not in a good place. Three nights of going out hard in Cartagena will absolutely catch up with you. I was doing ok in my room with the curtains drawn and the air conditioning cranked up, but I knew soon I would be out in the heat, the sunlight and surrounded by crowds. I was not excited.

It was still a few hours before my flight, but apparently the luxurious 5-star Hotel El Caribe needed by room, and they were adamant that I get out.

I settled up with the desk, threw my bags into a taxi and got moving towards CTG. I found the signage at CTG incredibly misleading and I kept walking back and forth between sub-sections of the airport, unable to find the Avianca counters.

When I finally managed to locate the desk, the agent noticed my scheduled flight wasn’t for a while and told me there was another flight leaving in 20 minutes with available business class seats.

I had no great desire to hang around CTG for an extended period of time, so once she assured me that I’d be able to make the flight, I agreed to take her up on her offer and switch to the earlier CTG-BOG flight, AV 9549. It was a decision I would almost come to regret.

With a boarding pass for my new flight in hand, I went outside and around towards where the domestic gates are. CTG is tiny, so security took about 30 seconds. As soon as I was through, my gate was dead ahead and my flight was already boarding.

This was oddly reminiscent of my experience with Thai when flying from Phuket to Bangkok in the aftermath of the Koh Phi Phi Tsunami scare.

I went right from security to the gate, outside, up the airstairs and onto our Airbus A320-214 registration N451AV.



The seats were identical to those on my flight in from BOG to CTG.

I conked out for most of the flight back to BOG, which I assume was uneventful. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the final portion.

I have been on probably thousands of flights in my traveling life. In all of those flights, I have had only ONE missed approach ever, on an Air France flight from NCE to CDG.

As we neared the runway, on final into BOG, close to touchdown, I heard the engines rev up, the plane hesitated then lurched back skyward, and I knew we were going around. The second missed approach of my travel career.

We gained altitude, circled for a bit, then setup to try it again.

Just before the wheels finally hit the tarmac, you guessed it…I again heard the engines scream, the aircraft floundered then began upwards and we were doing it all again. My third missed approach and the second of the flight.

At this point, I was starting to have my doubts as to whether these pilots were capable of landing an aircraft at all, and I was kicking myself for trusting my safety to Avianca.

Additionally, there are mountains around BOG and it was getting to be late afternoon and the clouds were rolling in. Mountainous terrain, worsening visibility and a crew that was seemingly not competent enough to land an airliner at their home hub…I know we were never really in any danger, but it’s easier to see that in hindsight.

On the THIRD try, the pilots managed to set it down, and I felt like giving them a pat on the back. When we got to the gate and deplaned, I asked one of the FA’s what the cause of the two go arounds had been, since the pilots hadn’t made any announcements.

She told me that BOTH go arounds were due to traffic on the runway as we were about to land, so basically we almost pulled a quasi-Tenerife twice in a row. That’s some fine looking out there BOG ATC crew…you have traffic on the runway causing a near collision, then you wave us off, send us around and when we come back to try it again you vector traffic onto the runway in front of us again!? It boggles the mind.

The important thing is that we got down safely. Between the hangover and the stress of the go-arounds, my nerves were a bit jangled. I got off the plane, walked out front, hopped a cab and made for the JW Marriott.

The cabbie’s daughter lived in the U.S., and he felt it necessary to tell me her whole life story and all about her husband who is in the Marines. I nodded politely throughout, but really just wanted to close my eyes and rest.

It was early evening by the time I got to the hotel. I went up to the room, dropped my stuff off and flopped onto the bed. The hard part was over. Now I could rest and recover until my return to America.

GetSetJetSet

The international terminal at BOG is brand new, and it’s a pretty great facility. One of the downsides to having such a new physical plant, is that not everything is open and in working order yet.

I was flying American Airlines business class from Bogota to Miami. As such, I just assumed that there would be a lounge. It’s under three hours from BOG to MIA, but it’s still an international (intercontinental even) flight in a premium cabin.

My assumptions proved to be presumptuous. There is A lounge at BOG, just not one that grants AA pax entry.

The Avianca lounge is the only one that was open at BOG as of my travel (October 29th 2012 was my flight). I thought surely AA would have set up some sort of contract with the only working lounge to allow their premium passengers to access it…nope. Likewise, my Priority Pass did nothing, and even though I have a United Club membership and Avianca is a Star Alliance partner, this did not grant me access since I was traveling on AA and not part of a Star Alliance itinerary.

I ended up sitting by the gate for a long time. At least there’s free, relatively quick wifi.



Our Boeing 767-300 which I mistakenly thought was registration N35DAN (no aircraft with that registration exists, so I must have botched one of the letters), was laid out in a two-class configuration with AA’s international angled lie flat business product.





I am no great fan of the angled lie flat, but every time I have been in an AA J seat, I’ve been exhausted and had no issues getting the rest I needed. The seats are 2-2-2 on the 767.

We were quickly up in the air, and on our way to America. The meal service began shortly after we reached our cruising altitude and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. The steak wasn’t overcooked and was pretty great.





After the meal, I reclined my seat and got in a brief nap before landing at MIA, which is basically still part of South America, and one of my least favorite airports in the world.

The immigration queues were long, there were many screaming babies and I was not a happy camper, but I was back in the U.S.

GetSetJetSet

I was never supposed to end up in Miami. My original plan was to fly from Bogota to NYC, change out my linens and tropical gear for clothing more suited to winter in the Midwest, then fly to Columbus and join the Romney campaign for the final push in Ohio.

Then Hurricane Sandy happened. The superstorm happened to hit the northeast the day I was due to fly back from Bogota. Of course, my flight was scrubbed due to weather.

I cancelled my reservation with United for free thanks to the weather related travel waiver, and figured Miami (ironically enough) would be the best place to fly into during a hurricane .

A friend of mine was staying at the Mondrian South Beach, and she encouraged me to join her there. They had some sort of absurd sale going on and rooms were incredibly cheap, so I decided to treat myself, and booked a suite before getting on the flight back to America.

Once I got through the crying baby filled immigration queue, I hopped a cab and took off for the hotel.

The Mondrian is on the bay side of South Beach, so you’re looking at water, but it’s not the ocean. The nearby streets were flooded, which was probably due to a water main that burst or something, but my driver insisted it was storm surge from Sandy. I suppose it was possible.

Knowing that Miami is a fake and incredibly tacky town, I presented the desk girl with my most pretentious credit card at check-in (JP Morgan Palladium Card), and falsely assuming I must therefore be important, she upgraded me on the spot to the next room class.

It’s good to know when you’re dealing with awful people so that you can act accordingly and take advantage of their contemptible personalities. Thanks for the upgrade Mondrian!

The room was great.; large living room with a couch and TV, a dining table in the kitchen, separate bedroom and a balcony overlooking the bay. My only complaint is that the bathrooms were tiny, poorly laid out (style over functionality…vintage Miami) and there was no bathtub…I like bathtubs.



I went down to the gym, which is on the same floor as a modeling agency (I think the same one that used to be located in the old Gansevoort) to get in a quick run. My friend texted me while I was there, and it turned out her room was only a few doors down, so she popped in to say hello.

Sadly, she was being boring and not venturing out that evening. I had been pushed to the breaking point in Cartagena, but that was two days ago. I despise Miami and most of the state of Florida in general, but if I am only going to be in a place for two days, I’m absolutely going to go out.

I called my buddy who goes by the DJ name of the Haitian Hillbilly, since he is a white Haitian who looks and dresses like a hillbilly, with the impressive facial hair to back it up.

He told me he would swing by around 11:30pm, after his dinner and pick me up.

I went down to the Mondrian’s lobby bar, which was 100% deserted and started slamming jack & cokes.

As you can imagine, Haitian DJ’s who are also drug aficionados are not the most punctual of people.

A few rounds in, the bartender told me he was closing up shop. I grabbed a whisky for the road and went up to my room to have it out with the minibar.

Somewhere around midnight, the hillbilly pulled up in his beat to .... vintage pickup truck. I brought him down a beer, and we both drank Heinekens as we made for the beach.

His agent or manager or something like that had a table at FDR, so this was our first stop. FDR is at the Delano, and it’s in the space that used to be Florida Room. The party was actually pretty fun, and this is something I don’t normally say, as I really, really don’t like Miami. I met some lovely young ladies at the table who I still talk to sometimes.

When FDR stated to die down we went to another club the name of which I can’t remember. We did a few quick circuits, but it was lame. Then we moved to (I think) Mokkai to meet the people we had been with at FDR earlier. When they closed around 5am, the hillbilly and I piled back into his pickup truck and went across the bridge to downtown Miami.

There’s a bar there that serves 24/7. I was shocked that there was an all night bar in Miami that I didn’t know about and I was a bit upset that none of my friends had brought me here before.

Of course, even walking in at 5:30am, there seemed to be a set of regulars who are always there at the change over from late night to early morning. They all knew the hillbilly, I guess he’s also a regular.

Around 6:30am, I couldn’t hack it any more. The hillbilly turned to a guy a few stools over from us (another regular) and told him to drive me home. Apparently the guy is also a cab driver and just drinks in between fares. You meet interesting characters when you stay out until all hours.

We talked politics on the ride back to the Mondrian. The driver was playing for the wrong team, so I tread lightly.

Coming home in sunlight, wearing your clothes from the night before is always an amusing experience. I was awake, but there was no need or desire for breakfast, so I went upstairs, drew the blinds and finally got some rest.

The Mondrian Report Card

Pros: Big rooms, nice pool area, hot girls in the gym by virtue of proximity to modeling agency, great prices during sales.

Cons: Faces the bay, not the ocean, can't walk to most of the bars on SoBe, at times feels more like serviced apartments than a proper hotel.

Verdict: Meh. I wouldn't go out of my way to stay here again. If it was substantially cheaper than anything in a good location, I'd be ok with it. My stay was perfectly pleasant, but nothing about the hotel made me think "man, I want to come back here."

GetSetJetSet

Since I was stranded in Florida, I never did get a chance to go home and pack clothing appropriate to the sub-freezing temperatures in the Midwest. Linen shirts and swim trunks were not going to cut it.

I spent most of my last day in Miami running around trying to find warm clothes. As you can imagine, Miami is not exactly flush with stores stocking warm winter coats. I failed.

Given the ferocity with which the Hillbilly and I had attacked the previous evening, I was due for a night off.

I watched TV in the room and went to sleep very early. The next day it was time to escape Miami. It had been a fun trip, but I am going to have to remain of the opinion that in general, I hate Miami.

MIA was as usual a total disaster. It’s one thing if my delivery guy doesn’t speak English, but the vast majority of all employees at MIA, including the TSA government employees cannot speak English in an intelligible fashion. This is very, very frustrating. We might be close to Latin America, but the stars & stripes are still hanging outside. I’m not trying to be abrasive, well perhaps I am, as it’s my nature, but is it too much to ask that government employees in the United States be able to converse with travelers in the de facto language of our homeland?

First class fares from MIA to ORD had been very cheap, so I had access to the Admiral’s Club.

I think this was the same club I was marooned in when I was trying to get from MIA to Rio in December of 2010. While the facilities of the club are mediocre at best, and I find AA to be a second rate legacy carrier, both of my interactions with the staff at the Admiral’s Club in Miami have been exemplary.

In 2010 on that previous occasion, my flight from MIA to Sao Paulo had been cancelled perhaps one hour before boarding. The lounge staff managed to rebook me on a flight from MIA to Buenos Aires leaving 45 minutes after my original flight, and then got me on a BA connection from EZE to GRU. I had been traveling on an award ticket with BA miles, but as an added bonus, when they rebooked me EZE-GRU on BA, they put me into an F bucket, which is a revenue bucket, so I earned miles for my free flight…helped me re-qualify elite with BA that year…thanks.

This time, I was in the lounge early, and wanted to try and get on the earlier flight to Chicago, so that I’d have more time for the evening.

The helpful guy in the lounge was able to arrange a standby ticket for me on the early flight. First class was sold out, so I’d have to fly economy, but it’s not that far to Chicago, and I really wanted to get moving.

With my new boarding pass in hand, I went down to the gate, only to find the flight delayed. I talked with the gate agent about the possibility of getting upgraded to first, since I was traveling on a paid first class ticket on my original flight. He told me he would see what he could do.

In the end, it didn’t matter. There was a medical emergency with the flight crew. I think someone said that the co-pilot had a heart attack, I never got the full story. The gate agent pulled me aside and told me that due to the unspecified flight crew emergency, the flight was going to be delayed indefinitely pending the arrival of a new crew, and that I would be better off switching back to my originally booked flight.

I thanked the agent, went back to the lounge and swapped back to my original flight and in fact into the original seat I had booked. Much ado about nothing.

In this age of regional jets flying on virtually every short hop and 737’s being pressed into service for transcons, it was a welcome change to get to the gate and see another widebody AA 767-300 waiting for me.

Like the aircraft that took me from Bogota to Miami, this 763 had the international business class product (marketed as “First” here since it was a domestic route).

I fell asleep almost as soon as I got into my seat and woke up on final approach into O’Hare. I only had one night in Chicago, I was going to make the most of it.

GetSetJetSet

It was very late by the time I got to Chicago. I had made tentative dinner plans with some local friends, but when the wheels hit the tarmac at O’Hare, it was clear that dinner was not going to be an option.

My buddy B, who I had been staying with in LA the month before was out in the Midwest. He was a 4-hour drive away from Chicago, but it was Halloween, and I managed to convince him that he would have more fun spending it in Chicago with me than stuck out in the fringes of flyover.

I had previously stayed at the James during a friend’s disastrously long bachelor party weekend, and the rates were shockingly low, so I booked a room with two beds.

When I got to the room, B was already working on a bottle of tequila. He poured us both large glasses, and I started catching up while showering and getting ready. Once we were all put together, we grabbed some road sodas and snagged a cab.

I still had nothing but my Colombia clothes, so I was wearing jeans, driving shoes a dress shirt and a sport coat. It was probably 20 degrees in Chicago.

One of B’s friends was at a private party Paul Oakenfeld was spinning at, so we swung by there first.

Like I said, it was Halloween. I didn’t even have clothes that would keep me from freezing to death, so it goes without saying that I didn’t have a costume. When people asked what my costume was, I told them I was dressed as a guy who got stranded by Hurricane Sandy. It was the truth.

Before I landed, B had been pushing the Martin Solveig show at Paris Club. We have accidentally become sort of Martin Solveig groupies. We saw him at a party in St. Tropez over the summer, then when I was out in L.A. one night, we went to a club and he happened to be playing a show there. Now we were in Chicago and he was playing again, so it seemed like the thing to do.

The problem is, I hate being tied to specific plans during the evening, and shelling out $80 to see a dude spin seemed a little bit ridiculous. As the first party started to thin out, B talked me into going to Paris Club and seeing if they’d cut us a deal.

We did them one better. When we got to the door, I walked past all the security/bouncers without looking at them, trying to give the impression I’d already been in. It worked, I went through the door, upstairs and into the bar without anyone questioning me. No tickets needed.

B was not so lucky. He got snagged by a dude wanting to see his ticket. He tossed him a little baksheesh and all was well.

I met B at the main bar, and we found his friend R. B had met R at E’s Hamptons house during the summer. She was a very nice girl and went with the flow despite not knowing me at all, and us being more than a little inebriated.

We stayed at Paris until Solveig finished and the place shut down, then R suggested we go to Prive. Things got even hazier there, and B got separated from us.

I woke up at R’s place really early in the morning, found a cab, and got back to The James, where I found B still awake, looking worse for the wear from the evening.

We laughed about our newfound groupie status, then I drew up a quick list and went over to Saks to buy a new winter wardrobe both because it was freezing, and because flip flops and polo shirts wouldn’t be very office appropriate while working on the campaign.

With my new gear purchased and jammed into a newly acquired suitcase, I left everything in the room and went to grab lunch with B.

He had the rental car he had driven to Chicago, so when it was time to go, he dropped me at ORD and I told him we’d catch up back in NYC. It was like déjà vu to a few weeks before when he’d dropped me at LAX.

It was time to get even more Midwest and to do grown up work. On to Ohio.


The James Report Card


Pros: Great rooms, awesome location, nice on-site bar, reasonable prices.

Cons: I really can't think of any.

Verdict: Whenever the price is right, The James will be my pick. I have enjoyed every stay I have had there.

GetSetJetSet

It doesn’t get much more boring than a short hop on a regional jet, so I’ll this short. I was again flying first on AA by virtue of very cheap fares found on the internet (Kayak in this case), so, after checking in, I popped into the tiny Admiral’s Club near my gate.

I hate cheating on UA almost as much as I hate giving AA credit for anything, but I have to say, as far as regional jets go, they have UA beat.

Our equipment was a CRJ-700, tail number N504AE. I was in seat 1D. The seats were comfortable, and even though this was only a 295 mile flight, AA attempted to serve something approximating a meal. This was surprising to me given UA’s move to “snackboxes” on mainline flights. You usually get nothing on RJ’s.

As you can imagine, I was pretty tired from basically not sleeping at all the night before, and running around Chicago all day looking for warm clothes. On the plus side, I was now warm. I had a new winter coat, scarf, sweater and other things you need to survive winter in the Midwest.

I go to Columbus fairly frequently for football games, so I had a “football season girlfriend.” This was a term she was aware of and embraced in good humor, so I don’t want any guff about being a jerk. Basically, the deal was, when I came to Columbus, I would stay with her, and while I was in town, we were dating. When I was in parts unknown, no attachment. Can’t beat free lodging.

I had arranged for football season gf to pick me up at CMH, and I would stay with her for the first night before moving into a hotel for the rest of the week. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect at campaign HQ, since this was my first campaign.

I wanted to help in some way, because 1. I thought four more years of Obama would be a horrible, horrible tragedy for America, 2. I believed, and throughout the course of the campaign came to believe more and more that Romney would actually be an excellent President, not just a “lesser of two evils,” 3. I wanted to be involved instead of just idly .....ing from the sidelines, then not voting like most of the people I know.

We touched down, my ride met me out front and I was on my way to the battle in Ohio.

dat4life

When I first saw your title, my first thought was "Partying Secret Service Style". Nice TR, GetSetJetSet. It gives me something to kill time with while the gf is out shopping.

GetSetJetSet

In a previous life, I had been a lawyer. After seeing Romney wipe the floor with Obama in the first presidential debate, I started to think he might actually have a chance, and that even the non-stop media propaganda campaign in favor of their messiah wouldn’t be able to sway the American people. After all, they had seen Romney demolish Obama on national television. That had to count for something. I knew it was still a longshot, but I wanted to try to and help in any way I could, so I contacted the campaign.

After a few e-mails back and forth, they told me that I would be of most use to them working in the war room in Columbus, fielding calls in the run up to election day, and on election day that dealt with legal issues.

I wasn’t sure how effective I’d be, but like I said, I wanted to help, so I signed on.

The morning after my arrival, football season gf dropped me off at the brand new Hilton in Columbus, on her way to work.

Outside of the Blackwell, which is on campus, staffed by students and run by the hotel school, there is nothing approximating a good hotel in Columbus.

The new Hilton is fantastic. It’s in a great location on High Street making it a reasonable walk to downtown and the Short North (and even campus), there’s a nice bar, the rooms are modern and comfortable and the onsite restaurants have great food.



Back on topic though. My room wasn’t ready, so I left my bags in the lobby, went for a brief walk, then came back to the hotel around 11am.

My room was now ready, so I changed into some business casual attire and caught a cab out to campaign HQ.

I met with the guy who was overseeing the legal group, and was introduced to some of the people I would be working with. Once the group was assembled, we all adjourned to an orientation. The rest of the day and the next day were spent in the office.

Saturday was my allocated day off, which turned out to be fantastic for me, as the Buckeyes had a home game against Illinois. Even better, one of my good friends living in Chicago had season tickets, but was unable to attend, so he gave me his two tickets in A-deck for free. Hell of a nice guy.

Since football season girlfriend had been so super to me, I brought her to the game. We started the day at our favorite college bar, watched the mighty Bucks eviscerate a particularly hapless Illini squad, then made our rounds of the post-game bars to see friends and celebrate.

Sunday, it was back to work. At one point when another lawyer and I were tasked with going out to a suburban development to go door to door (only to voters who identified as Republican of neutral) to ask question, I realized the campaign was doomed.



If the Republican party thought the best use of their resources in 2012, in a campaign they were trailing was to send lawyers out on foot to go door to door and bother people by asking them if they were planning to vote, and if so morning, afternoon or evening, then I just don’t know what to tell you.

For the most part, we were only contacting people who were already planning on voting for our guy and more than a few of them said they were sick of being hounded and wouldn’t answer any questions. Awesome strategy, harass and alienate your likely voters, surefire way to win the election.

This experience really drove home just how wide the enthusiasm gap was. The Dems were able to mobilize infinitely more volunteers and since their base was much younger, they understood how to use technology, use the media and influence and win modern elections.

I still believe that Romney was and is a better man and would have been a better president, but the Republicans were hopelessly outclassed regarding the tools and tactics that are needed to run modern campaigns.

Still, I soldiered on. Football season gf had moved from her house into the hotel with me when I checked in, so we both got dressed in our finery and went to the election night party. At that point I was certain we’d lose, so the evening didn’t have a very festive atmosphere.

As the results started to break for Obama, the night began to peter out. No one felt much like celebrating.

We went back to the Hilton, walked through the throngs of drunk Obama supporters celebrating in the lobby (the Dem party had been there) and up to bed. I had the next day off to rest before flying back to NYC.

Oh well…at least the Buckeyes won and the hotel was nice.

Hilton Columbus Report Card

Pros: Fantastic location, nice lobby bar, great restaurant and room service, modern décor.

Cons: It’s new and they are still ironing some kinks out, the gym is light on equipment and weights

Verdict: I wouldn’t stay anywhere else in Columbus. When I went back later in November for the Ohio State v. Michigan game (we won…again), I stayed here again.

GetSetJetSet

There was nothing left to do but go home. I spent the day after the election catching up on sleep and lying around the hotel.

On the 8th I would finally be going back to NY. What was supposed to have been a long weekend with some buddies in Cartagena had turned into more than two weeks spread over five cities and a lot of great memories.

Slightly off topic, but if you’re ever on the fence about whether or not to go on a trip, just do it. I don’t think I’ve ever said “man, I wish I hadn’t gone on that trip, that was lousy.” Even the ones that turn out less than perfect are great. Even the places that you hate teach you something. Plus…you meet interesting characters on the road.

Football season gf drove me out to CMH. I would be seeing her again in a few weeks when I returned for our yearly stomping of the state up north.

There’s no airline lounge at CMH, so I was stuck sitting at the gate, looking over the gray and depressing field as the sun slowly set.

Many moons ago, Continental used to actually fly a mainline 737 from EWR to CMH a few times a day. Mainline UA aircraft don’t come to CMH anymore, and for most of my trips out there I am crammed into a pre-merger Continental ERJ145 in a monoclass configuration.

I saw that UA 3557 was operated by a pre-merger United ERJ-170, registration N863RW. The pre-merger UA 170’s have first class. While there were no cheap first class fares, I was able to “B-up” to first at time of purchase.

If you are an elite with United, when you purchase a Y or B bucket (both are coach class fares), you have the ability to automatically upgrade from coach to first at the time of purchase. This complimentary upgrade is also available for higher level elites who purchase M buckets.

There was a reasonable B fare, so I B-upped at time of purchase, and assigned myself seat 2A.

The election hadn’t gone our way, but it was still a great experience. Colombia had been a blast, the Buckeyes were still undefeated and I was no longer freezing to death. Things could have been worse.

As I boarded the last plane home, as usual, I felt trepidation about coming back in off the road. I know that some people don’t like to travel, or can only countenance it in brief spurts, but I feel most comfortable on the road, and I’d stay out in perpetuity if it was feasible. It was November by this point, I had some weekend trips scattered over the time between the 8th and Christmas. I hoped these would be sufficient to stave off airport withdrawal until December 26th when I would be headed skyward again for a few weeks. That would be an excellent fix.