Cabo in January - Part 1

My third trip to Cabo San Lucas at the tip of Baja California Sur sent me home with a tan and a smile and a glimpse of what a vacation in January really means.

But getting there was no fun at all. To start, I almost didn't make it out of town.

Thursday morning, January 17, I woke up to snowflakes falling and weather reports meandering back and forth from promises of six inches of snow to freezing rain to an ice sheet more dangerous than Antarctica in winter.

There was a chance that the road to the airport would be too dangerous to travel at 4 am the following morning.

Yes, I did say 4 am. My plane was scheduled to leave at 6 am. And international flights -- Baja is officially Mexico even though we say "California" -- take longer to negotiate.

Silly me to worry. The cab made it to the top of the street, we piled in to a toasty back seat, and we made it to National in plenty of time. But Delta's computers were down . . . ugh. At 4:45 am, there was a line like Friday night prime time waiting for check-in. Double ugh.

I should be calm and sure that all will be well, happy to stand in line quietly. Instead, I run up and down looking for a way to cut in line.

Meanwhile my pal Riggin is smiling kindly. She is laid back and mellow waiting with the patience of a biblical character behind the couple traveling to Lourdes with their growling rotweiller and their stinky old pug.