I Went To Cuba Illegally- Part 2

I was getting ready to leave for the day, when the hotel phone rang. Who could be calling me?
I never gave anyone my hotel phone number.

“Digame” - I said as I picked up the phone.

“You have to leave Cuba a day early. We’ve canceled your flight for Friday. You have to leave on Thursday now.”

“But I can’t leave a day early! I have a connecting flight in Mexico to get back to the US, and it’s not until Friday!!! Plus I already paid for this hotel for Thursday night. I don’t want to pay again for a hotel there also. Can I at least get a partial refund or something?”

“No.”

Ugh.

I hung up the phone, feeling dejected.

I asked the hotel for a refund for one night, but they also said no…seeing as how it wasn’t their fault that I had to leave a day early.

Being the organized, overly-prepared person that I am, I hadn’t even brought a debit card with me because I didn’t think I’d need it.

US debit cards don’t work in Cuba, and I wasn’t planning on spending any time in Mexico.

"Shoot, I might run out of cash.” I thought.

Luckily, the cash issue didn’t end up being a problem. But having to pay $100 for a hotel last minute really sucked.

Can airlines really just do that?? Make you leave a day early?

Apparently in Cuba, they can.

So I left Cuba the next day.

(random Cuba pic from blog.klm.com because you need pics to keep you entertained)

---

When I get to Mexico, it was about midnight.

I’m walking around, very confused as to where I’m supposed to be doing, and I don’t have a smart phone or internet to help me.

I was looking for a taxi, and strangely there were hardly any to be seen (which is really weird for airports).

I saw one van, and there was a Mexican guy yelling something at young girl about my age, and she was saying “I don’t understand you! I need to find a hotel!.”

I decided to walk over and help her out, since I speak a decent amount of gringa Spanish.

I found out she didn’t have a hotel to stay at, so I told her to come stay with me at my last minute overpriced one, if she didn’t mind sharing a queen bed with me.

She was from Israel, and just started her solo-traveling throughout central america.

We ended up staying up until 5 am talking! I ended up having a surprisingly amazing night…and all because I offered to help someone out!

The next day, we split up at the airport.

I started getting really nervous.

I had gone through all of this effort to not leave any trace of evidence that I’d been to Cuba…and yet here I was, hauling all of this **contraband ** with me.

Yeah, I had a ukulele that said Cuba on it. I had a puzzle box with the Cuban flag on it. Cuban magnets.

Illegal cuban pesos.

Tourists are only allowed to use the tourist money, called CUC. They’re not allowed to use the Cuban pesos.

Of course, I had to have some (sorry, dad).

Sure, it as all heavily wrapped in bubble wrap and tape, but since when did a lil’ measly piece of bubble stop the airport security police from going on a power trip that day?

Shoot. What am I doing?- I thought.

I REALLY wanted to bring the stuff back. But I also REALLY didn’t want to go to jail.

Stuff?
Or jail?
Stuff?
Or jail?

I’m the worst liar ever, so I was pretty sure I’d be spotted for carrying contraband right away:

(imgflip.com)

I sat there weighing my options like:

(dopl3r.com)

Since I can be really indecisive, I decided to take a poll.

The plane was already boarding and I was standing towards the back of the line.

I started asking people around me their opinion.

“Hey! Do you think I should risk sneaking this into the US or should I just leave it here on the airport floor?”

I asked about 5 people.

The last guy did something that totally surprised me.

“I’ll take it for you.” - he said.

“Are you serious??”

And he was. He took my “contraband” and pretended it was his.

I said “well, the flight goes to Atlanta, but I’m actually going somewhere 5 hours away. But, I guess I have a better chance of seeing my stuff again if you take it than if I leave it on the airport floor.”

So, he took my stuff to Atlanta, I went to Charleston, SC and didn’t really think I’d see him again.

Until about six months later, a new friend I made asked if I wanted to go on a trip to ATL with her.

I thought “Why not? Can we make a pit stop to pick up my contraband?”

So I went to ATL, messaged the guy, and he surprisingly still had my stuff.

I couldn’t believe he hadn’t thrown it away.

He said we could meet, and when I went to pick it up from him… he just said “You know…I’ve been wondering for months if I accidentally snuck drugs into the country. I have no idea what’s inside this bubble wrap!”

So I opened it up for him and showed him that no, he didn’t sneak in drugs, but he must have trust issues (being too trusting) too if he snuck in a potentially very illegal package into the US for some stranger.

I showed him I was just carrying stuff like this that said Cuba all over it:

(cuba101.com)

“What? No, security officer. I didn’t go to Cuba. I got those in Mexico. I promise."
😅

So now you guys know all the details of my bad deeds. Please don’t tell on me.

Love @nomadicsoul

P.S. If you want part one, here ya go