Tazy positions herself at the window by our departure gate, watching for the doggie van. You see, if the dog gets bumped to the next flight due to excess baggage on our flight, that means he shows up ownerless in Costa Rica. An ownerless dog at the airport means officials in the capital must be notified. Veterinarians are required. Paperwork must be shuffled between various bureaucrats and huge amounts of cash must be supplied by the sorry dog owner.
But, we're in luck. A white van gaily decorated with cartoon dogs pulls up to our airplane. A dog kennel emerges. We relax.
As it turns out, showing up with a dog is in fact a benefit when clearing customs in the Liberia airport in Costa Rica. This is because Max, the airports dog clearance official is personally involved. Max, who is wheeling Jake's kennel on a trolley, obtains $40.00 U.S. for processing and departs to an inner sanctum of Liberia International. His hands are full on his return, so is unable at this time to give me change back from the fifty I handed him. Baggage goes on the trolley, Max ignores the immigration line and we are all waved through to our waiting shuttle van. More busy-ness and we're loaded and outta there five minutes after I picked up the luggage. Who can ask Max for the ten bucks change after service like that? It seems like we've been profiled by Costa Rica security and having a huge dog in a kennel means we are in the harmless profile. My kind of logic and there were no losers in this latest battle in the "War on Terror".
Four hours and one beer stop later, our talented and relaxed driver Alex deposits us at the casa that will be our home for the next three months. Our rental agent, Donna, shows us around. She gives us a few tips on the house and area, makes us feel at home and leaves us to settle in. It's nice here. I'm sure I'm gonna like this just fine.
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