Neither my child bride nor I have been on an airliner in about eight years.
Augustin offered us two nonstop choices: Interjet, a relatively new airline, and Cubana, the Cuban Commie Carrier.
I would have preferred Cubana because I’d like to see how Fidel melds his cruel austerity with something as capitalistically elegant as air travel.
They likely serve gruel and tepid tea.
But Cubana’s flight from Mexico City to Havana departs at 6 a.m., not surprisingly, because they don’t want you to get any sleep.
We went with Interjet, a Mexican carrier that just got off the ground, so to speak, in 2005 and which departs at the civilized hour of 11:30 a.m.
The tickets were about 800 Gringo bucks for the both of us, round-trip. I gotta 20 percent discount for being a, uh, senior citizen.
Since I first mentioned this outing early last month, I have come to my financial senses and canceled the $200-a-night hotel.
I did this in part to economize, but I also did it because I wouldn’t have felt right in such snazzy surroundings while all the Cubans out on the sidewalk were under the austere Communist Boot.
Yes, it was a gesture of solidarity with my fellow suffering Man. I don’t want to rub my One-Percenter credentials in their long, collectivist faces.
So instead we will be staying at the beautifully named Orchid Residence for a whale of a lot less than $200 a night. Try $60, and that includes a jacuzzi.
Augustin also sold us two health-insurance policies that Cuba demands of all visitors, a relatively new requirement inspired by the many “tourists” who were appearing on Havana’s doorstep with medical issues that needed free FidelCare.
Those policies ran us about $30 each.
Since our flight will not take us near the United States, I’m assuming a full body X-ray will not be necessary, and we will not be required to remove our shoes, our underwear, nothing like that.
More to come . . .