I’m writing this from SFO, waiting to board. You’d think I’d have nothing to report, but that would be wrong—alas! I knew one of my cases was seriously overweight, in fact morbidly obese. I’d been told initially that it would cost $25, which seemed doable—but no, it’s now $50! ARGH!!! Oh well, can’t do much about it, so I swallow my @#$@$%#$^^& and agree. But my good friend, J, intervened and suddenly the clerk who had been less than impressed with my importuning, handed me the release slip, saying, “you don’t have to pay.” Miracles begin!
Instead of dropping me off, as is the usual, Mark stayed with me through the check in procedures. It’s wonderful to have a son who can be so free and is so willing to help out his mom. He had to drag the heavy suitcase with the defective handle that won’t slide up anymore. After I got through the check-in, he announced he’d had no lunch. I was carrying my left-overs from last night’s lovely dinner with good friends in Menlo Park,so we sat at one of the many eateries.
At the check in I was told I could have just 1 carry on. In the past my backpack was my “purse” which I carried in addition to the carry-on. No more. Nope, the backpack must go in the carry-on. So while I’m waiting for Mark to get his lunch I begin the process of merging—success!!! Halfway through my leftovers I remembered I need some supplements to help digest my food (one of the many benefits of being 80). ARGH! Dig through the carryon, finally finding the small container I’d so carefully filled and placed in the backpack. OK, so now I’m all put together again. We finish our meal, hug and wave good-bye. I proceed to Gate A-1. Almost to the gate, I suddenly wonder whether I collected my camera from Mark. I had wanted to include an embarking photo in this post. Stop! Open bag, pile through. NOOOOOOOO!!!! No small pink bag with MARGO, writ large. Back to the food court (almost a city block). Look at the table. The woman sitting there assures me no pink bag was there. To the counter where Mark got his lunch. No, no pink bag. RATS!!!!!! But I’ll go back to the Emirates counter. Maybe it’s there. But just as I passed by our table I caught a wee glimpse of pink under the seat! Can you believe it was my camera!!!???? Thank you, thank you, thank you, Guardian Angels!!!!
Greatly relieved, I schlep back to the security gate, only noticing that it’s for G gates. Mine is A1, so of course I ask. “Oh, no, you’re on Emirates, that’s at the other end.” ARGH!!!! In my frantic efforts to find the camera, I had turned the wrong direction out of the food court. Back down the long corridor, trying to console myself with the exercise I was getting, in prep for the long flight.
It was shortly after 3 when I got through seurity. I hate the new machines, so I told a tiny fib that it was hard for me to raise my arms over my head. Well, it was a few months ago, before that was resolved with a bit of PT. I just used the wrong verb tense. The TSA agent looked at me, asked my age and concluded this 80-year old was an unlikely candidate for the terrorist watch list and let me go through the old one—which I also don’t like.
A1 was very close, so by 3:20 I was sitting, waiting to board. The electronic board by the gate said boarding would begin at 3:45, departure at 4:45. By 4:10, I suspected the flight would leave late (yuh think?), and while the boarding went smoothly, we left 1 hour late (and arrived in Dubai 1 hour early!!
I say the boarding went smoothly, but it was the longest boarding corridor I’ve even been through, such that after 2 or 3 miles (or so it seemed) I opined out loud, “Are we walking to Dubai?” That produced a few chuckles from the crowd of very somber people, all intent on just getting to the seat and settling in.
I’m now ensconced in my room at the Copthorne Hotel, surprisingly not sleepy, considering I slept so little on the plane. And of course I packed the Melatonin in my checked luggage. ARGH!
Tomorrow I’ll have only 5 hours to Nairobi, where Fr. Kiriti will pick me as he always does. The 2016 adventure has begun.
I am in Naivasha, staying temporarily in a very nice house., having been met by Fr. Kiriti and Sr. Irene, whom I know from visiting Fr. Kiriti in East Pokot. Long time readers may remember I went with Sr. Irene and Sr. Modesta out into the bush with their mobile medical clinic.
More to come. Sorry, no pix this time, but I wanted to get this out so you would know I arrived safely.