KENYA III
Travel from Burlington to Newark to Paris to Nairobi. In Newark, faulty air-conditioning unit on aircraft keeps on grounded for over two hours, meaning connecting in Paris will likely be tight. Complete crapshow in Paris: no signs, no indication of flight status or corresponding terminal. As look for *anybody* to ask, overhear woman and man ask airport personnel for the next connecting flight to Nairobi. We are directed down dirty stairs to a transfer station in shambles. We need to ask three people before anyone can confirm we are in the right spot. Wait 15 minutes for bus to drive us across the tarmac to the terminal. As enter building, see small, dark area with people packed in snaking, stagnant, endless lines, waiting to go through security. Nobody in our recently banded group had their boarding pass issued at their origin, and we’re told we need to wait in another, endless snaking line, to get them. We are now officially suppose to be on board. The woman flags down an airline attendant, and we somehow get service. She grabs all our itineraries and passports, issues us the boarding cards, and checks our luggage. Feeling triumphant, we wait in the security line, and discover a majority of folks in line are also headed to Nairobi. We wonder and hope they’ll hold the plane for so many tardy passengers. After moving 5 feet in 10 minutes, a flight attendant queries the security line how many people are headed to Nairobi, and up go a wave of hands. I get to chatting with the gentleman in the group, and he’s originally from Nairobi but moving the State a couple decades ago. He’s headed back for a month for a family reunion. We kill time with our co-waylaid passengers by wondering if there could possibly be a more inefficient system. About 45 mintues later, we make it through security, and it’s like a wonderland on the other side: big open space, lots of sunshine pouring through the huge glass windows. We get on board, an hour after the scheduled departure time, and find we’re all sitting together, last row before the bathrooms, three seats to the row. I get the middle seat. Upon looking for my seatbelt, I can’t locate it. I dig up the cushion, find the attachment screws, but no belt. Fearing eviction and lack of extra seats, I put my pillow over my lap and hope the attendant doesn’t notice. The pilot announces there are still 35 passengers waiting to get through security, and we’ll likely be delayed another hour or so. I try to look on the bright side: that’s just more time my luggage has to find its way to the belly of this plane. Flight itself is fine, can’t seem to sleep, so numb my exhausted brain with crappy movies, and soon enough find we’re landing in Nairobi. Nice to have some sense of what to expect. Fill out a swine flu form, make through customs without a problem, and am delighted to find my luggage cruising around the conveyor belt. See my name on the taxi driver’s placard (I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amused by that) and finally arrive at the hotel. It feels good to be back.