Bathroom Monologue: Ultimatum in the South

We’re leaving at 3:00 AM. That’s the earliest time when multiple flights start leaving, and it has to be multiple flights. Then they won’t know what city you’re departing for. It could be Cuba, Peru, Haiti or Costa Rica for all they know. We’re taking one with a ten-minute stopover in Brazil, except we’re not getting onto that connecting flight. We’re going to walk into the first bathroom we find in Sao Paulo-Gaurulhos International and change costumes – clothes, shoes, ditch the fake beards and pull a second, smaller set of luggage out of these big ones. We’ll stuff the old things in the trash, then spend twenty minutes in the back of a café, until flights north start up. As soon as we hit Texas, we take a taxi into a city and we disappear. I’ve got our tickets for 3:00 AM here, and the fake passports. There will be no I.D. or money trail to follow, and once we hit the ground they won’t know where to look. The U.S. is developed, but Middle America is an abyss. It’s either this, my man, or Interpol gets you at 5:00. You know what they did to the others. What do you say?