From our Bureau of Unsightly and Unacceptable Blemishes on Apartheid Tourism with some assistance from our Bureau of Unacceptably Colossal Insults to Superior Beings
Ay, Dios mio! Sagrada mierda de los caballos del Faraón de Egipto!
Superior beings arriving at Castro, Inc.’s apartheid airports are being forced to wait a long time for transportation to their apartheid enclaves!
The horror, the horror! That fuel shortage crisis that is currently crippling the island socialist utopia is starting to have an impact on the god-like foreigners who flock to that totalitarian hellhole for dream holidays.
Ay, Dios mio! Teremenda tragedia! Lord have mercy! Tourists who visit Cuba are supposed to be shielded from all the inconveniences that bedevil the lives of Cuba’s noble savages. They shouldn’t have to wait for hours and hours for a ride to their apartheid enclave!
This crisis needs to end, Mildred! (Please notice the exclamation point!) Oh, Lord, how awful . . . how heart-wrenching it is to know that all of these dream holidays are being ruined! Please, Mildred, let’s ask Jar-Jar Biden to bring an end to the madness of the Blockade, which is the cause of all such suffering!
Loosely translated from Havana Times:
Marta and Manuel, two Spaniards who arrived in Havana this Good Friday on the Air Europa flight, pass through the door of the José Martí international airport and come across a dark esplanade full of people holding signs with the name of a tourist. The taxi stand is empty. The lack of fuel has hit the strategic tourism sector, and the Madrid couple spends two hours waiting for a vehicle to take them to Old Havana.
“This is not how tourism can be recovered,” says the employee who manages the taxi stand. The man calls again and again on his mobile phone to the possible taxi drivers who relieve the long line that has been formed after the arrival of the European flight. But the answer he receives is almost the same: “I don’t have fuel.” After half an hour, a yellow Citröen arrives in front of the line of desperate travelers. “This is my last trip because what I have left of gasoline is not enough for another,” he says.
Several tourists hurry to get on the buses that will take them to Varadero and other resorts. “We are making the trips to leave the customers in the hotels but we have had to cut the excursions,” explains a driver who begins to read a list of British surnames to confirm the travelers he will take in his vehicle. “For almost a month we have only had fuel for transfers to and from the airport,” he emphasizes.
On the other side of the street, in the shadows, the drivers of several private vehicles load luggage into trunks and shout among themselves the coordinates to find fuel. “The Santa Catalina gas station has none; neither does Boyeros and Ayestarán although they told me that they saw a tank unloading an hour ago at the one on G and 25.”
The information, more valuable for filling the tank of the vehicle than the money itself, has created networks of solidarity among drivers who, in addition to spreading the word about where the supply has arrived, help each other in the lines in front of the gas station, which can last for days. “We are four taxi drivers and we take turns in line. The station that had fuel last week doesn’t have it anymore. We wouldn’t have a life if we had to be in line all the time,” explains a young man who rents a cab from the Taxi-Cuba Company.
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