So I was happy to be on my travels again. Edmonton to Calgary was an uneventful event. In Calgary I had a chance to charge my Kindle in preparation for the very long flights ahead. First surprise, my Kindle became very fussy and would only charge if I held it upside down. Even my technology has become demanding…but I did manage to hold it upside down long enough to feed it enough electricity to get me to London. On the plane I was seated next to an enormously fat man, and I had visions of unwanted physical intimacy for the next several hours, but, miraculously, the seat next to him was empty and he was able to move away from me and take up two seats.
Eventually we arrived in Heathrow for my 7 hour wait…if anyone is interested it takes very little effort to walk 5 miles in that airport. Fitbit provided me with lots of entertainment as I walked through the underground tunnels of Terminal 5 from one wing to another. You’d think with all the money they spent on that terminal, a few more hundred to buy some cheerful paint for those tunnels would have been well spent. It also gave me lots of time for people-watching, and by my calculation only about 47% of people look pleasant…at least when they are in Heathrow airport. I tried changing money, but there were no Kenyan shillings to be had.
We finally set off for Johannesburg. For the first half of the trip there was a beautiful crescent moon outside my window, and for the second half I got to watch the sun come up over the Sahara. The plane was a brand new airbus, and all along the windows there were these little bins between the seat and the side of the plane. They weren’t big enough to keep a purse in, so I’m not sure what the designers had in mind? Perhaps yet another place to lose your glasses, Kindle, or other small items. British Airways does issue every passenger with a toothbrush, however. The dinners on both BA flights were quite good, and the breakfasts were oddly inedible. One of them was an icy granola bar that had been perhaps stored on the plane’s back porch, and the other one was a futon embedded with something that might have been created by an alien who had heard about sausages but never seen one.
Eventually, after about 30 sleepless hours we arrived in Jo’burg. I had no boarding pass I’ve done this before, so I went to the desk to get one. My plan was to find my gate and treat myself to breakfast. No one at the desk. No one due at the desk until 3 hours (more or less) before the plane is due to leave. I met a nice young woman from Maryland who was in the same predicament, and we sat and chatted. It was her first time travelling outside of America, and her first time travelling by herself. First she showed me the secret pocket in her pants, and I didn’t tell her it wasn’t a secret if she showed people. Then she told me that her mom said that if she was left someone alone she should find a nice middle aged lady to sit with — apparently, whatever my friends and family may think — I look like a nice middle aged lady.
Finally, about 2 hours before the place was due to leave, the person appeared at the desk. . Several people handed over their passports and got boarding passes. I handed over my passport and the computer made an ugly noise. The agent continued to swipe my passport and the computer continued to reply with an ugly noise. The agent asked if I minded stepping aside and waiting while she dealt with the rest of the line. Then we did the swiping ugly noise thing a few more times. Apparently the computer hadn’t healed. She then phoned her supervisor (from the Air Namibia desk because her phone wasn’t working). The supervisor helpfully walked her through the process over the phone, resulting in the same ugly noise. This was repeated, but I think the agent was getting frustrated because this time she held the phone up to the computer so her supervisor could also hear the ugly noise. Once again I stepped aside to allow her to process the line that had built up. Next step, a phone call to the British Airways main office, who also talked her through the process that resulted in the ugly noise. Repeated again, with the phone held up to the computer so they could also hear the ugly noise. She kept apologizing to me, and I could see that she was doing everything that she could think of.
Suddenly, she realized that it was 10 minutes before I was due to board, and she phoned someone and spoke in another language, extremely urgently. This produced a little man who hand wrote me a boarding pass and very quickly led me through security and pointed me at my gate. I arrived just as they started loading the people with small infants. I had now spent 4 hours in the airport without even a cup of coffee and felt a little sorry for myself.
When the gate agent tried to check me in, the computer made an ugly noise, remarkably similar to the previous ugly noise. She phoned her supervisor who helpfully talked her through the process that resulted in the ugly noise. She tried phoning the transfer agent but I told her that wouldn’t work because that phone wasn’t working. Then back to her supervisor, more ugly noise, then British Airways main office, more ugly noise. Finally the entire plane was loaded except for me, and she said to me that she had to let me on the plane because my luggage was already there, so why didn’t I just go, without being checked in and she would worry about it later. OK. When I got on the plane everyone stared at me, probably wondering why they didn’t want to let me on the plane.
The cabin attendant on the plane handed out immigration forms for Zimbabwe, and helpfully gave me one that had already been filled in by one of the pilots. At least I was assured that the pilot was old enough to know what he was doing, and young enough to be alert…he was also single. I returned that form in exchange for a blank one. When we got to Zimbabwe everything was straightforward. The immigration officer apologized because my visa was $75 and,he said, if I had only been American it would have been $30.
Finally, 36 sleepless hours later, I arrived at my hotel, and made it to my room. The bellman reminded me to close the sliding doors when I was in the bathroom to avoid having monkeys and baboons come into my room and help themselves to things. I thanked him, had a shower and fell into bed.
Hunger woke me in time for dinner. It was beautiful sitting in an outdoor restaurant by the Zambezi River, listening to a band playing what I think were marimbas. In a moment of cultural confusion, I realized they were playing Never on a Sunday, and wondered if they knew what the song was about.
I thought I could blog before I went back to sleep but, alas, by fumbling, I managed to lock myself out of my computer. I didn’t know you could actually do that, so I am blaming lack of sleep. I held my Kindle upside down for a while, and went back to sleep.
You’re a nice lady for any age.