Arrival and Flying Surfboards
San Jose Travel Blog› entry 1 of 14 › view all entries
July 19th, 2007 – by: Eric
Before the trip, Dave and I meticulously packed up our surfboards. We smothered the boards with bubble wrap, padded the rails with piping insulation, and threw them into cushy board bags. It appeared that our boards would be traveling more comfortably than we were.
The first test came at LAX airport. We handed the boards over to the TSA (Transportation Security Administration) officials to get scanned, and they must have thought they were in the olympics because they threw those boards like javelins across the concrete floor.
After arriving in San Jose we were picked up by Franklin's mom. Franklin was a friend of a friend of Dave's, and he was kind enough to offer to show us around during our first weekend in Costa Rica. Franklin's mom had brought only a few bungie cords which we were supposed to use to secure the boards onto the top of her car. Strapping surfboards to a car with only a few small bungie cords is like a fat man trying to use a rubber band as a belt, but we weren't thinking too clearly after our long flight. Sure enough, while we were driving down the highway we heard a snap quickly followed by Dave shouting "AggggGGHHH!", and I turned my head around just in time to see a large black mass glide down behind us, landing then slightly bouncing to a stop in the middle of the highway.
It was in this moment of shock that we first witnessed the friendliness of the Costa Rican people, a theme that would repeat itself throughout the rest of the trip. A jogger who was running along the side of the highway recovered the boards then handed them off to a truck driver who was trailing behind us. We pulled over to the side of the road and the truck driver delivered the boards to us only a few seconds later with a crooked smile on his face. In America, and especially in Los Angeles, a pedestrian venturing onto the freeway would be entertaining certain death. The unscathed truck driver would have sued us for mental trauma, run over our surfboards in a fit of road rage, or both.
Miraculously, the boards were unscathed! Pura vida!
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