Agents’ Meeting in Salvador

The annual Air France Agents’ Meeting was held in San Salvador this year. I missed the last two meetings, which were held in Mexico. There literally was no way I could fly there except by spending an extra night en route each way and doglegging so far out of the way that the fare was double. It was not worth it for a two-day meeting.

 

The trip to Salvador was an easy 55-minutes. I breezed through Immigration and Customs, looked around for any other Air France people, then grabbed a cab. I had faxed Gabriela, my main contact in Mexico, that I would get to the hotel by myself. The airport is about 28 miles from the city and the fare is us$40. However, I had to get to the hotel, change, and be ready for a cocktail party so soon after my arrival that I did not dare risk the roundabout route of a cheaper van.

As I was checking in, the group from the Mexico City Air France office arrived. They said they had waited for me at the airport. I think they must have arrived just after I left.

These Air France meetings are fun because it has been the company’s policy in Central America to appoint CGM (French Line – shipping) agents as Air France agents. With the exception of Costa Rica, all the other national delegations were old friends from earlier CGM or Air France conferences. The regional director and his deputy visited Belize a year ago, so I knew them. I had met three other members of the Mexico delegation during my training course there almost four years ago.

 

The meeting was held in the Camino Real, a lovely hotel. The cocktail party was pleasant. My friends were kind enough to speak English to me, though Spanish was the main language throughout the conference. I excused myself as others began leaving and started down the hotel corridor. I heard someone running behind me, calling my name. It was Tom Kenna, the delightful young man from Panama. I first met Tom and his beautiful wife in Paris. We have seen each other several times since. Alex, Tom, and I spent a lot of time together at the CGM conference at Key Biscayne last year.

Tom quickly told me that he was just a couple of doors away, gave me his room number and asked me to be sure to call him if I needed help in any way. I was deeply touched at his thoughtfulness.

It was not until the next day that Tom explained he was thinking primarily of gunfire. He said that early in the week, when he was taking care of his small daughter, he heard two heavy volleys of nearby gunfire. He felt completely helpless to do anything except keep his daughter distracted and in the safest possible location in the house. Tom worried that I might be frantic if the fragile Salvador peace were broken in the middle of the night.

As it happened, I already had discussed the possibility with myself and had mapped out what to do and what not to do. The “nots” were expanded to disturbing Tom at night for something he couldn’t do anything about. As it happened, there was no need. I think I heard two brief lots of gunfire late one afternoon, but can’t be sure. It was not a car backfiring and was not like any firecrackers I ever have heard.

 

The business sessions were long, hard, stimulating, and in Spanish. I probably understood about three-quarters. When something interesting slipped past, I asked my friend from Guatemala, who was sitting next to me, to explain briefly.

The Salvador agency did a gorgeous job of planning the conference. Even the meals we had in the hotel were well above average. The evening after the first session, we were taken to a golf club on a mountainside outside the city. We were told that the guerrillas had burned it, along with all the other private clubs, but that it had been rebuilt.

We had drinks on the gorgeous lawn outside a glass-walled dining room. A guitarist played and sang in the background. To everyone’s surprise, Carlos Cardenal, the delegate from Nicaragua, suddenly joined the guitarist, singing beautifully and half-acting out the songs. Carlos performed for thirty minutes or more, with the surprisingly acquiescent help of the guitarist.

We had music through dinner. At the end, one of the men from Salvador joined in a duet with the guitarist. Sr. Flores had a far finer voice than Carlos, though not the theatrical flair. The impromptu entertainment continued for at least two hours, with many of the guests joining in on favorite songs. It was utterly delightful.

 

The Mexican delegation and I were taken back to the airport by bus on Saturday morning at 6:30. Immigration was a madhouse. A room the size of a small store held shoulder-to-shoulder nervous passengers. Lines did not move. I think I was through in about forty minutes, leaving just enough time to catch my flight.

I thought! As it happened, TACA was more than two hours late. I had arranged for a taxi to meet me in Belize, so was home a little before noon. To my surprise, Alex and María were waiting. I knew they had been invited out to Caye Caulker for the week-end. Alex would not leave until he was sure I was home, so they went out a little late.