It was the longest trip ever, but I made it. I’m back safe
and sound, if not exhausted, at my home in Liberia. I left Seattle at 11pm
Tuesday night and reached the airport here in Monrovia at 4pm Friday afternoon.
That is 56 hours, 26+ hours more than usual. Let me break it down for you…
The first snafu was my fault. Apparently my jumbled brain
did not notice the super-sized layover scheduled in the itinerary. I bought it,
then saw it-- 13 hours at JFK, oops. So, after the 5 hour flight from Seattle,
where I spent the entire flight awkwardly trying to ignore the couple making
out next to me, I arrived at JFK at 7am. Exhausted. I dabbled with the idea of seeing NYC; never
been there, always wanted to. Ultimately I decided a trip into the city was a
bit out of my budget this time around, so I sat and walked, sat and walked, sat
and walked and observed New York’s finest airport.
Some of my observations from spending the day at JFK-
-An elderly Indian woman, not even 5’ tall, washing her feet
in the bathroom sink. Both impressive and disgusting.
-Birds everywhere. Like we are talking Alfred Hitchcock
birds. Maybe if people would stop letting their kids feed them the French fries
from Burger King they’d find somewhere else to go?
-Pretty sure I heard every other language in the world
spoken. And watched an interesting animation from the TSA guy to the
non-English speaking guy in front of me on how to go through the security check
point.
-Speaking of TSA guys—also watched an almost fist fight
between one and a passenger. Hmmm… who’s gonna win that fight?
-Learned a lot about the latest fashion: Leopard print
leggings under short-shorts with a hoodie and furry boots?
-People will spend $12 for one glass of wine! (not me) and
$6 on a latte (me).
After one of the longest days ever and still no sleep, the
time for boarding the plane finally came. I was, of course, seated in the
middle between two (as it turns out very nice) West African men. About three
hours into the flight; after dinner had been served, the elderly man on my left
was asleep on my shoulder, and I’d just taken a Benadryl to help me sleep
through the rest of the 10 hour flight-- the Captain comes on the overhead
speaker to make an announcement. The airplane has turned around, we are
returning to JKF. Satellite communication problems, can’t land in Africa.
WHAT!?!
Three hours back and we land at 0230 in the morning. Still
haven’t really slept and in a Benadryl induced fog I stumble through the
airport, ticket counter, taxi, hotel… finally a bed at 0500. And here is the
best part of the entire journey—I slept! Six lovely, fantastic hours in a hotel
cloud-bed.
The next afternoon I was able to meet up with my friend
Keith (who was supposed to be on my flight and missed his connection, lucky
guy). The day passed more quickly with a friend and before I knew it we were
ready to try this ‘fly to Africa’ thing again. And made it. Ten hours across
the Atlantic to Accra, Ghana where we had to wait for a few hours to finish the
flight to Monrovia. But, this is not where the adventure ends.
I actually flew through immigration, and mistakenly thought,
“Wow that was easy.” But, I had forgotten the contact sport known as ‘getting
your luggage at the airport in Liberia.’ Picture 200+ people jammed in a room
with hundreds more pieces of luggage. A mountain of refugee bags piled in the
corner. The conveyer belt so overloaded suitcases are falling off, knocking
people over. Imagine the sweat, the smell, the noise and you are still not even
close to picturing the true impact of it all. Keith and I tag-teamed it. Yes,
like wrestlers, high-five and you’re in to take your turn in the fight. I got
knocked over by a burly guy and his bag and a woman’s high heel about pierced
my foot, but we finally found all our bags and escaped the ruckus. Phew!
Back home several friends were waiting for me. I greeted
everyone, unpacked a little, found some dinner and then fell into bed, where I
slept a glorious 14 hours! Feeling a little more alive, yet still somewhat in a
jet-lag coma I am getting ready to get to work. Good thing, tomorrow is Monday.
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