Lest Carol think that we were trifling with Daniel & Patricia’s safety, we were in constant phone contact with them, and apprised them of our schedule every five minutes. Of course, had anything sudden happened, our cellular connection would have been little help. But. But. But. I could just hear Nelson’s voice in my head: Mollie will KILL me!

So what did we do? Called them up to find out where they were, and if it were going to be better for them to come back to us at Copacabana or meet us at the ferry terminal. A cab had pulled up in front of us, and we quickly decided to jump in it rather than schlep ourselves back to the Metro. Robo looked like he had “enjoyed” the beach to the fullest, and I was ready to get back home and try out my caipirinha maker.

Between Jean and the Cerqueira-bots, they decided to have them cab over to meet us at the ferry terminal. That enabled us to savor our ride to the terminal in a tiny cab. The driver was a large Carioca with a modest afro and a ready smile. He spoke about five words of English, but understood “ferry terminal,” because Jean had Patricia tell him via cell phone where to take us. Smart!

I must say that at this moment I was firing on all cylinders, and had revved up my spindly Portuguese sufficiently to actually “converse” with the cabbie all the way. He smiled, seeming to understand what I said, and spoke many words that I was totally down with. Jean later reported that it was an amazing thing to listen to, but if they showed the replay it would be a completely different story, I’m sure. We were probably reading each others’ expressions, and using nouns like “Copacabana,” “Cristo,” “Sugarloaf” and “Playboy Playmate.”

Meanwhile, we had gotten the word from D&P that their cab driver was an idiot. Either that, or crazy like a fox. He had managed to find them a traffic jam to sit in, even though there were very few cars on the road around them.

Our cabbie pulled up to the terminal at that precise moment, as if to further punctuate the stupidity of Daniel & Patricia’s temporary handler. I wondered if he knew the Whistler. We got out of the cab, regaling the driver with big fat obrigadoes the size of his hair. His glistening smile as he pulled off was rewarding and reassuring.

The whole Terminal area was beautiful. It almost resembled the backlot of a film studio.

All righty! Here we all were. Robo and Pettus had bought the tickets for D&P, and all we needed to get on the next ferry were the Cerqueiras themselves. Jean and I had already put our tickets in the turnstiles and were standing inside when the phone rang. Cabbie has managed to get them lost, but has assured them that he knows where to go now. Robo and Pettus stayed outside the gates to wait on their arrival. Once again, we were separated like families at a jail visit.