I flew back from the Pantanal; a journey which involved two taxi rides (one of an hour and one of an hour and half), two flights and three airports. The first of these was Corumbá, an elegantly faded town on the border with Bolivia. Corumbá Airport must be the smallest I've ever been in. It's modern, clean and very comfortable, but absolutely tiny.
There's almost no need for a boarding call, as there's only one gate and the pilot can practically tap you on the shoulder personally as he picks up the keys to the plane. However, they obviously like to do things properly at Corumbá, and a someone at the gate made an announcement over the public address system, even though we were all a couple of metres from him. This professional veneer did slip a little when his walkie-talkie crackled into life during his spiel, causing screeching feedback. His expression was a picture. All the passengers started laughing (with him rather than at him), which gave him a fit of the giggles. By the time he'd got through the usual "we'll be boarding in a few moments..." thing, everyone (including him) was laughing their heads off and he got a round of applause.
While I was waiting, I saw an older guy with 'Baggage Handler' written on the back of his shirt. At that point, I suspected that he was the baggage handler, singular, and felt a little guilty about the weight of my suitcase.