Rantings Diversified

Note: all times are local
I was packed, tired and hungry. I double checked all the drawers and whatnot and headed downstairs to the front desk to check out and head to the airport. It was about 8pm. I got some cash back for checking out early and I waited for the hotel shuttle bus. When it arrived I loaded in and we headed off. We got there about 2100 and I found out the KLM window wouldn’t open until 2240 so I went looking for food. The Dubai airport is a huge beautiful place and I got a veggie pizza and sat by the windows to watch airplanes taxi around the tarmac. They have free wireless internet access there so I was able to get Episode 2, Part 2 uploaded. I wanted to get that up before I left, so that was cool.
At about 2245 I went and checked in. Not so bad. I got all my boarding passes in one shot this time. Then came running the gamut of exit visas and three different security checks. I eventually get to the gates and duty-free shopping. I want to buy some more smokes and a couple of bottles of Jameson’s. Well I get the Irish but the lady checking me out tells me I can only bring one carton of smokes into the US. Well doesn’t that just suck! I head off to my gate and when I got there I realized I still have an hour and a half wait. Well, don’t you know there is a bar right across the way from my gate? I ordered a Guinness. While there two Germans guys sit down beside me and ordered a round of Kens. The unusual part was that they both got their beers and drank them in one long gulp. DAMN! I thought out loud. They repeated this four times.
So I go get on the KLM Boeing 777 to the Dam and I was stuck in a middle seat of three. Sven from Oslo shows up and he has the window seat. Great! This is going to be one long 9 hour flight! When I saw them closing the door I became one very happy camper because no body was in the aisle seat next to me. I hopped over to it and Sven and I were both happy. Snore-time. I went down for the count for about an hour. The next 8 hours were fairly uneventful except for the fact that the cabin crew was some of the nastiest and meanest people I ever met. My dinner was slapped down on my tray-table and to serve Sven the crew members just reached right in front of my boat race without even an ‘excuse me’. ‘ con permiso’, ‘excusez-moi’ or a ‘entschuldigen Sie mich’. When they came around to offer drinks I was greeted with the single command of ‘Drink?’. At one point I wasn’t sure what I wanted so I hesitated and the stewardess was gone in a flash. WTF? I thought to myself. So as I said earlier the flight was uneventful. It felt like a lifetime but it was only nine hours. We arrive in the Dam and I was more than happy to be off that flying tin can.
On my way to my gate I stopped off at the duty free shop and ask about taking smokes into the US and this time I’m told I can take up to 5 cartons in duty free. What? Doesn’t that figure? Smokes here are $30USD as opposed to $9USD in Dubai. Well, the heck with that. I have a carton and my Jameson’s so I’m happy. I get to my gate only to find more security, only this time a bunch of guys from the US are in line in front of me and they tell me security here is the toughest in the world. Whatever! By this point I just want to get home. At passport control I get questioned ad infinitum. I finally look at this girl and said out loud, “I just want to go home! What’s the fucking problem?” She wisely handed me my important papers and passport. Then came the metal detector security thing. No big deal.
This flight was a KLM flight run by Northwest Air but worse yet it was an Airbus 330. The same kind of flying beer can I was so uncomfortable in on my way to Dubai. Lucky for me I get an aisle seat again. This time I was seated beside a guy from Detroit on his way home from visiting family in Kuwait. I try to sleep but didn’t do a very good job of it. The stewardess’s were all ugly and I’m fairly sure to get that job one must prove you are always in a bad mood.
There was one bit of niceness during the entire flight. When they came around offering drinks I told her I would like a vodka and ice. She gave me a small cup of ice and one of those tiny little bottles of Skyy vodka. As she started to walk away she dropped three more of those little bottles on my lap.
About 5 rows in front of me there was a young family with two kids. Just wonderful!! Yes, dear readers you know exactly where I’m going with this one. The youngest of the kids cried the entire flight. I mean cried! The extremely loud wailing kinda’ crying that pierces to your soul. Shut your focking kid up, Got Damn it. I thought it though I was VERY tempted to say it out loud. Yes, 8 hours of this cacophony and the cabin crew did nothing to allieve it. Also about five-ish rows in front of me was a stunningly beautiful Israeli woman. She was heading to Ann Arbor to visit some relatives. Her name is Hera. She is tall and has an incredible mane of beautiful long curly, curly hair. She is absolutely traffic stopping stunning. We exchanged email addresses.
Then we land in Detroit.
Detroit. Not anywhere I wish to visit again.
We disembark and get sent directly into customs. It was no biggie and they didn’t check any of my bags. I told them straight off I have a couple of bottles of Jameson’s and a carton of ‘boros. They couldn’t have cared less. Armed with my boarding pass I head straight off to security for my next flight. Well shit! I went all the way through without checking my check in bag. So out I am escorted to check my bag and do it again. Bag checked in and I’m all ready to go through security again and BAM I get tagged for extra special checking. Alright, whatever, let’s just get on with it. I wasn’t concerned or mad or anything like that until they started asking me questions designed to trip me up. Instant attitude!!! So, you’re going to Harrisburg? Your ticket has you flying into Middletown. Why is that? I responded with, “I bet you went to a public school because you don’t know shit about US geography. Do you?” What is your address, sir? I said, “It’s on my license in your hand. What’s your address?” Well this exchange brought Scott Haldemann the supervisor over and he tried. So, you’re from Harrisburg? Yes, I am. Where do you live Scott? Where were you visiting in Europe? I’m sorry, Scott, you didn’t answer my question! And so went our conversation. Eventually Scott saw the futility of trying to joust with me and gave up. “He’s OK. Let him though.” Scott told the minions and I said Thanks, you stupid, overly bureaucratic, short, little twit of an asshole. OK, so I didn’t really say all that but I wanted to.
Right at the bottom of the staircase was the FOX Sports bar. The only place in the airport where one can smoke. Well, four beers, two hours and some good craic with a guy heading off to Texas later I head off to my gate and the final leg of this sojourn. I check in and board this little baby sized airplane. Someone turned me off and I went out for about an hour and a half and I am awakened by the Captain announcing that we are in the final descent for Harrisburg International Airport. We were on the ground and disembarking 20 minutes later. My bud Jim was there to drive me home and he did. Once home and settling I ordered a pizza and poured myself a Jameson’s. Ok, so it was more than one. I passed out on the couch about 9pm and got up this morning about 9am. I guess I was tired.
It’s snowing as I write this.
So ends my Adventures in Arabia.

Ok, I have to give you a bit of background first. You see on Tuesday when I packed and GTFO’d out of Michele’s apartment, in my haste I left a bunch of my clothes hanging in the closet. On Wednesday I called and left her a voice mail telling her I would appreciate her getting them to me.
This morning, Friday, I arose from my dormancy platform at 0630. I just putzed around. You know the three S’s and that stuff. At some point I looked at my cell phone and it said to me that I had received a txt the evening before. Michele sent me a message to tell me my clothes will reach my hotel tomorrow, which is today. So I did a bit of reading and generally was having a lazy morning when about 0830 I’m just laying on my bed watching the traffic go by and all of a sudden I see an old, beat, black Chrysler. Holy Shit, that’s a Chrysler I think I said out loud. I jump up and sure as shit it pulls into the parking lot directly in front of my window. I watch as she gets out carrying a yellow Spinneys bag. Oh, I am REALLY not up for this, I think out loud. A few minutes pass and she reappears outside and walks to her car. She sits there for awhile. So leave already, I’m again thinking out loud. Then my phone beeps. It’s another txt to tell me my clothes are at the front desk. Whew, that was close. She eventually pulled away.
So, I’m figuring by the way my feet felt at the end of yesterday that I did 20 to 25 miles. Well, today maybe I’ll hit 30. I’m off to Al Satwa to have a look-see around. Mr. Cabbie man drops me on Trade Center Street and I start my walkabout. I found a tiny little internet café kinda’ scary place in an alley and popped off a few quick emails. I was just kinda’ wandering again and I came upon a hotel called the Rydges Hotel and Resort. I went in. I really had to, “see a man about a horse”. Don’t you know to get to the WC one must walk right by a bar or pub in this case. Seeing how it’s 1430 I decide to stop and do some weight lifting. One Imperial pint 20 ounces at a time.
This is where I met Steve the Brit, Frank the Scotsman and Brian the pommy blow-in from Sydney, NSW. Three good guys. We talked about Soccer and Baseball and Rugby for a bit and then we all headed to another bar in the hotel to shoot some pool. That we did. We played teams. The Brian’s vs. The World. We won some and lost some. Come to think of it we all sucked at pool but it was good craic. As I stated above it was 1430 and sunny when I went in this place and it was dark and very much night like when I left. Well so much for doing a lot of walking today. I guess pounding a bunch of Kens, shooting pool and good craic is akin to walking around. Isn’t it?
I wake up this morning, 0630, Saturday, with a bit of a headache. Gee, I wonder why? It’s a grey, overcast, basically shitty kinda’ day. It matched my mood. Once again I had another killer breakfast at The Grind except today they refilled my tea pot. Oh brother was I over caffeinated. I felt like a hummingbird on Methedrine.
So I get this crazy idea to go to the Mall of the Emirates and I did. The Mall of the Emirates is where Ski Dubai is. Ski Dubai is an indoor ski resort. Yes you read that correctly. Inside this immense building they built a small mountain, refrigerated it and then they make snow so one can go skiing whenever one wishes. Absolutely bizarre!
I spent 5 hours walking around this place and I’d bet I only saw about 2/3 of it. Huge doesn’t describe it! If this isn’t the largest shopping mall in the world then I don’t wish to see the largest. Every store conceivable was in there. I saw women’s dresses that cost over $10,000. I went in to the Breitling watch store and ogled a couple of $18,000 watches. I also found a Tobacconist. Hehehe! Do you know what that means? That means I am sitting here smoking a Cuban cigar!!! It is a Cohiba #2 to be exact. This I could get use to. I wish that Castro guy would just die so we can start getting these at home. I also found a sports store and bought myself a real honest to goodness UAE rugby team shirt.
I had lunch at some place sitting beside a bunch of guys from Glasgow, Scotland. What language do they speak there?
My whole experience in the Mall of the Emirates, in hindsight seems to be a bit surrealistic. $18,000 watches not 50 yards from a dollar store. Women in abayas(sp?) walking next to girls in shorts and bikini tops. McDonalds, Burger King and KFC right next door to a coffee shop selling $30 cups of Joe
The cab rides there and back took me right past the Burj Dubai. This is the tallest man made thing in the world. Gee, I wonder if anyone is going to fly an airplane into it.
Dinner reading and bed.
I awaken once again at 0630 and start this the last day of my adventure in Arabia. It dawned on me that I may not have gotten the whole Arab experience because I have not raced a single camel nor have I seen any women getting stoned to death and as far as I know no one has been beheaded here this week. I’ll tell you one thing I am definitely going to miss and that is my bangin’ breakfasts at The Grind. After breakfast I headed down to the old Gold Souk again. This time I knew what I was looking for and whom I wished to buy it from. The other day when I was there I met an Afghan guy trying to sell me a really nice Arabian dagger. It was silver and hand engraved and WAY more than I could afford but I went and searched him out to buy some presents to take home. It took me about an hour because you see his stall is not actually in the Gold Souk but in one of the little alleys off of it. I found him and his name is Abdul Razzak or Razzak for short. He was blown away that I remembered him and sought him out to buy my presents. He gave me a great price for all of it and then gave me a little glass statue of the Burj Arabia as his present to me. We sat down in the alleyway and had some tea and talked for awhile. I told him all about Michele and my life in the US and he told me he worked as an interpreter for the US Army until the Taliban kneecapped him(shades of Belfast). The Army took him to hospital and fixed him up but then his father wouldn’t let him go back to work and sent him to Dubai until the Taliban are defeated. He has been here two years and expects to be able to go home in another year. He claims the Taliban are evil and use Islam to do the devils work. He is a really nice guy and if nothing else good comes of this trip at least I got to meet him and share a cuppa’ with him.
I get back from the Gold Souk and head to the Al Karama Post Office to send off some things, which I did. Ya’ know gub’mint offices are the same the world over. Actually maybe I shouldn’t say that because the people at the windows I dealt with were very nice and helpful. There was a ton of paperwork to mail things to different countries and every country had different paperwork. Anyways that took about an hour and a half and then I decided to hike it back to my hotel. The walk was only about a half hour but about 2 kilometers from my hotel it started raining. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one who melts in the rain. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was refreshing and cool but by the time I got to my room I was soaked. Wonderful, now I have to pack wet clothes! Oh well, it could be worse. It’s now 1900 and I’m 95% packed and more than ready to GTFO this sandbox. I’m going to head to the airport around 2100 so I can get checked in and buy some duty free smokes and a bottle of Jameson’s. I hope to find some free internet access so I can post this but if not it’ll go up as soon as I get settled at home.
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Coming next; Episode Three, The Return

As I said in my earlier post I arrived in Dubai at about 2330 and finally got out of the terminal around 15 past midnight. I walked slowly down the long and wide corridor looking for Michele. I didn’t see her anywhere as I approached the front doors of the airport. I stopped and looked around and around at the sea of faces but to no avail, so I went outside only to encounter yet another sea of people waiting for other people. No Michele. I slowly walked about another 50 or so yards when to my left I saw her running towards me. She gave me a great big hug. We then made our way to the car park and to her car. It was very late and she was in a foul mood. I of course hadn’t slept in about 72 hours and had just gotten off the plane ride from hell.
We drive the 20 minutes to her flat. She admits to being in a bad mood and I try to lighten her mood. It didn’t work. I was not what one might call, on my game at this point. No biggie, I think. Everything will begin anew tomorrow. We arrive at her place and she quickly shows me around and goes to bed. So do I. I went out like a light bulb. Dawn breaks on Tuesday and I awaken around 0630. She had been up and off to work awhile ago. I get up shower and feel 1000 times better than I did the day before. I sit down to read the paper she thoughtfully left for me. Her cats and I became good friends quickly. Paper finished and I’m getting antsy just hanging around. We speak on the phone a few times briefly. Where is this? How do I find that? That kinda’ stuff. She had given me her spare key so I go out exploring.
Man, there is construction everywhere and I mean everywhere. This whole place is under construction. Right next door to her flat is a mall. Once it opened I went there and got a cheap cell phone and bought a bunch of minutes. Cool beans. One thing down. Now when I’m out and about we can keep in touch. I found a supermarket and bought a bottle of water for my exploring. I found an internet café and dropped off a few quick emails letting some friends know I arrived safely. It cost me 2 AED that’s about 60 cents American. It was about noon and I returned to her flat and started in on writing. I was banging away at the keyboard with her cats happily napping next me. Her cat Noor climbed into my suitcase curled up and just snoozed away.
(Editors Note: Warning here comes the sad, weepy part)
It was 1359, to be exact, when I noticed I missed a call on my new cell phone. Well I knew who it was. There is only one person who knows the number. I call Michele at work and she sounds upset. She tells me we have a problem and she booked me into a hotel. WTF! Well there must be a good reason for it I think to myself. Though not very happy I take all the information, pack all my stuff and head out. I’m really getting concerned now. Is it her crazy X-husband or what? She really sounded upset. Anyhow, I get to this hotel and get settled. I call to let her know I’m here. No answer at her work. Later in the evening I call her house. No answer. Now I’m really getting worried. Is she OK? What’s going on? I try her cell. Also no reply. By this time it’s late and I’m very concerned for her but what can I do? I go to sleep. I didn’t sleep very well but that’s how these things go.

It’s now Wednesday and I’m up around 0530. I txt her. No reply. Hey, it’s early. It was about this time I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since being on an airplane. That was the day before yesterday.
So it was about 0830 and I head over to the coffee shop next door armed with my laptop. You see they have free internet access for the price of a cuppa’.
Now the hotel I’m staying at charges for internet access. They want 300AED or $82 for access. I’m glad I didn’t because I checked the signal here in my room and its shite. I would have spent the whole time bitching and complaining about paying for non-access. So I have The Grind, a nice relaxed coffee shop.
Back to our story…. I get my tea and connect and check my email only to find that Michele sent me an email the day before telling me she was uncomfortable with me staying at her place and she realized we have nothing in common and at least now she knows we’ll never work out together.
Huh? Excuse me? What The Fuck? BAM!
Where did that come from and how did she come to that conclusion?
Fuck man! I just flew half way around the world to see her and I did, for about 40 minutes and I get blown off just like that?
I don’t know. People are funny.
(Editors Note: End of sad, weepy part)
So today I did some more exploring. I changed a bunch of my greenbacks for this monopoly money they use here and I walked all over the place. I even went to KLM and got my ticket changed so I’m not stuck here.
As I’ve taken cab rides around today, my first impression is where is everyone going? Traffic here is worse than in NYC, Central London or LA and it’s everywhere, not just confined to a city center but everywhere.
Tonight I’m just going to hang outside and read my book. In case you’re keeping score at home it is another book by Ross O’Carroll-Kelly. So I’m there, roysh, it’s like all educational and goys everywhere should like read it.

Thursday, I woke up around 0530 again but this time my right foot is really hurting me and bit swollen. It is the first sign of an impending attack of gout. Funny how stress effects the body. Well, fuck! Why couldn’t it wait until I got home. I have a bunch of walking to do over the next few days. I guess it was about 0800 I hobbled over to a pharmacy about a block away. I guess you don’t need a doctor’s prescription here because I explained to the pharmacist what was going on and what I would do for it at home and she gave me a packet of pills to take. Two sets of two today and then two a day for the rest of the week. She also gave me an NSAID pain killer. She pointed out to me that it is much more powerful than the Ibuprofen I would take at home, so follow directions, please. Yes, Maam’!
Breakfast at The Grind was slammin’ good as was the huge Thai salad I had yesterday. So now I’m off to the old Gold Souk to do some wandering around.
Jesus H. Key-ryest! I just got back from Deira and the Gold Souk. That place is crazed. I mean that in a good way. There were people everywhere and I got so lost just walking through all the little alleys lined with shops. Though the more I walked I realized that eventually I would come to a main street and would be able to find my way back to where the cabbie dropped me off.
Ya’ know hiking out in the woods is one of my favorite pastimes and I dislike cities but I had such a blast today I think I’m going to do it again.
I think my favorite part of the day was around 1300 when I bought a bottle of Dibba mineral water and sat down on a bench inside the Gold Souk and just did some people watching. Arabs, Sikhs, Pakastanis, Scots, Afghans, Brits, Aussies, Africans as well as Afrikaaners, Japanese, Russians, Germans, Indians. I could go on and on. Humans of every stripe were hustling and busting through this place. There were a few like myself who were kinda’ wandering and enjoying just being there.
I was going to buy a friend a present and mail it to her but even in that place the jewelry is ridiculously expensive but I have a better idea.
I had dinner at my hotel this evening. Would someone please remind me not to do that again!
Oh, by the way whatever Pharmacy lady gave my for my gout worked great. I guess it was around noon that I realized my foot didn’t hurt anymore and my one boot was loose…because the swelling was gone.
So after dinner I’m heading over to the Majestic Hotel, (they have a bar), and as I passed The Grind, Ronaldo, the daytime waiter comes running out, stops me and tells me he and Pauline are just off work and they’ll come with me. Cool beans! So I spent a wonderful evening hanging out with them at the Majestic. Pauline kept joking with me by asking if I would marry her so she could become an American citizen and move to the US. Ronaldo asked if I had any sisters. It was the first good craic I’ve had here and I bowed out against their protests about 2200 and came back to my hotel to lay down and sleep. That is what I’m doing right now.
So ends Episode 2 Post Landing Part 1. Stay tuned for Episode 2 Post Landing Part 2 and coming soon Episode 3 The Return
(Comments are in Moderation)

I arrived at my local airport at 1500 it took an entire 15 minutes to get my ticket and go through super security, extra check, we think you’re a terrorist kinda’ checking me out.
Ugh!
They were working on our plane the whole time I was there. We took off almost an hour late.
Window seat just watched light patterns go by.
Atlanta.
Rush, rush, rush. Some right seat, non-captain kinda’ guy was too too helpful. He saved me time. He pointed my ass in the right direction.
I got to Gate One-One Echo and watched person after person get told they have the wrong important paper stuff or that they have to go back to some unknown ticket counter before being allowed on this A-360 Atlanta to Paris flight.
Worried I was. So it’s my turn and I step up to face little miss you ain’t even getting’ nowhere near this fricking airplane if I have anything to do with it.
So I hand over all my important paper things as well as my new and shiny and as yet unmolested passport. Well she just went off pounding away at her keyboard like she didn’t like it. Not a sound uttered forth until after a few very long, tense minutes passed she stopped with her typing and turned and looked at me. Right through me she was staring. Her look simply mocking my vain attempt to get on her beloved airplane with the seemingly correct…….Here ya go says she and hands me back all my important paper stuff as well as 2 new ones. Boarding passes for this flight and the next. Woo Hoo! I was so happy that as I got in line and was yelled at by some French guy in an Air France uniform for being a bonehead and getting in the 1st class boarding line. I turned to him and said. Merci. I guess I look Merkin ‘cause he about dropped his jaw.
Crushed in this plane worse that I have ever been stuffed into an airplane in my life. But I was a part of ROW 28. Yes the old infamous row 28. With the exception of a few missteps when we first took off I think we handled ourselves pretty well and upheld that long standing tradition of row 28. Now I have the forking Deutschlander on my left and the weirdo French girl on my right….Geez! I’m sweating my pitooties off (and I don’t even know what a pitooie is) and she is shivering. Yo yippy freakin’ skippy! She probably has some strange infectious disease or other that is only spread by contact on airplanes. I gave her my blanket. I wasn’t going to use it. She said thanks.
Meanwhile old Herr Deutschlander seems to need both his seat and half of mine. The ignorant fecker. So the flight goes for 8ish hour’s right and I’m stuffed between theses two. Ok, so if I sit bolt upright with my legs spread open and the person in front of me leans their seat back, well I’m fucked. Airbus A360’s were not designed with me in mind. Believe you me. I’m sweating like a pig while frenchy-girl is shivering next me.
Food comes. Cool. It was some kind of dead chicken or something. I freaked out when I saw shrimp in my salad. Stewardess guy said no problem and took it away. He said there was no more shellfish in the food. Whew!!
As I start in on my so called dinner I notice that frenchy-girl is watching my every move. This is starting to bug me a bit so I turn and stare at her. Didn’t help. She was just way too interested in watching me eat. WTF?.
No matter how much I tried I couldn’t sleep. So I followed along with the animated video of our airplane winging its way to Paris.
We got there.
Up and out of that tin can, POS, oversized, greyhound bus and when I reached the terminus I was armed with the info on my next flight. There it was, up on the Departures board, Foxtrot four-four. Cool beans! I start following the signs for Terminus F and as I turn a corner the forkin’ hall way ended at a bus terminal. Well the sign on the bus did say Terminus F so I got on and rode all the feckin’ way to F-land (it was a half hour ride!) wherein I had to go through security again. This time it was French securite. Well, shite that was a breeze. I all but walked right through. Now I had to run the gamut of duty free shopping. Well I actually had time to spare at this place so I walked around a checked out the shops. If these prices are duty-free then the hell with the EU. A bottle of Jameson’s was 25 Euros. That same bottle at home is 22 Dollars and last I checked Euros were trading at $1.40ish.
OK, so I check in for this the last leg of my flying adventure. We walk and walk and walk until we come to a staircase which we descend, slowly. At the bottom is a nice young lady double checking our boarding passes and our passports.
On to yet another bus. Oh BTW we were only bus number one of many many more to come. You see a Boeing 777 is one big ass airplane.
I find my 26C looking seat and it turns out to be an aisle seat. Cool beans. It’s better than being stuffed between again. Or so I thought.
Well Mrs. Indian Lady and her curly headed little spawn came up to me and pointed out that the two interior seats were theirs. You know that international sign language of grunts and nods and vague hand movements that seems to transcend all cultures and languages. They get settled as I do. You see at this point the world has yet to come unraveled.
The big-ass airplane began filling up with people and right about the time it was bursting at the seams they appeared. Bienvenue, Mr. and Mrs. Johnny Skobie from West London with their two daughters Scarlet and Olivia. Oh this was a site to behold! He was decked out in his finest Trakky Daks with the obligatory white Addias runners. She on the other hand may have been attractive in a different world. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans either painted on or three sizes too small with a huge red belt and a T-shirt kinda’ thing with little straps that didn’t even come close to covering her stomach. She was a skinny little girl with a fat belly. Yes, she was pregnant, again. God Save the Queen.
We take off, albeit an hour late. Let me tell you a Boeing 777 is a really large piece of metal and plastic powered by two of the biggest jet engines I have ever seen.
Once in the air Mrs. Indian Lady and Spawn promptly go to sleep. The Skobie clan didn’t but Johnny instead pulled out his Sony PSP, plugged in his ear phones and became oblivious to the world crumbling around him.
Unfortunately for me the slumber of Mrs. Indian Lady and Spawn didn’t last very long. Once spawn awoke that is when all in this particular area of the plane learned, with full force and volition, the meaning of the word hyper-active.
This freaking kid didn’t stop moving nor did he shut up the entire flight. It was a seven hour flight! Meanwhile directly behind me was Mrs. Skobie attempting to corral her two kids. She wasn’t very good at it. They ran around the plane mostly unattended. My favorite part was when one of them was bugging dad for crisps and he just handed this three year old a can which she promptly opened and spilled all over the floor. This is where Mrs. Skobie started into the act of yelling at Johnny ever ten minutes or so. JOHN-AY! JOHN-AY! So it went for most of the flight. For awhile I thought this guys name was John A. You see, dear readers, she couldn’t be bothered to reach the 3 feet that he was from her. No! She had to yell at him.
So I spent this lovely flight with a hyper-active five year old beside me and the family Skobie directly behind me.
The saving grace to this flight was the beautiful stewardess whom I chatted with the whole way. She is from Lyon but lived for a bunch of years in Atlanta. She had a perfect French accent but when she spoke English she had a perfect American accent. She was very nice. At one point late in the flight she came up to me and whispered in my ear……..”I’m really sorry you got stuck in this seat”. She was referring to my nearby passengers. That was very nice of her to say.
And so went the first leg of my sojourn.
I arrived in Dubai at 2330 local time. I cleared customs and walked outside at 15 minutes past midnight, a mere 24 hours after first checking in.
Coming soon, Episode 2 Post Landing, parts 1 and 2 and Episode 3 The Return.
So stay tuned.