The Last Leg Is No Piece of Cake, Either

Hallucinate:  To seem to perceive things which are not really present; to have visions.

The last leg of our flight was uneventful although both of us were tired enough that we had begun to hallucinate.  Hundreds of screaming newborns began to populate my peripheral vision.  We were weighed down with the heavy yoke of a nine hour time change, about 20 hours of continuous travel up to that point - and we weren't done yet - thumping on our none too young bodies, all accompanied by a barrage of toilet flushing and bathroom door slamming that would have drowned out the Allied bombardment of Normandy beach.

Our country of temporary residence is not known for its extraordinary efficiency so we landed a little further from where we took off if the bus trip from the plane to the terminal was any indication.  This wouldn't have annoyed me half as much if I had known that it would take an hour for the plane's luggage to show up at baggage claim.  There is nothing as invigorating as a dimly lit baggage area at 1AM, marinating in my now skanked up clothes, surrounded by people who probably did something to annoy me on the plane. 

Voila! our luggage arrived.  I'm sure I spent a chunk of time on the plane worrying about that.  I worry about almost everything over which I have no control.  We were vomited into the airport terminal itself and Voila! there was Issa, our cab driver.  I had definitely worried a lot about our driver not being there unless I was worrying that if he was there, he was going to cheat us or kill us or something.  Plenty for me to worry about.

"Mr. Seaweed, Mr. Seaweed," he said, scrambling over the ropes to help us with our luggage.

I motioned him over and gave him a big hug.  His reaction indicated that not too many people lunge at him to deliver big bear hugs.  He was a multi-lingual immigrant working at 2AM.  When we arrived at our apartment - on a dark, gloomy looking street - I tipped him outrageously and I hugged him again.  I think he giggled at this point.  He was probably eager to get away from a disheveled man trying to hug him in the middle of the night.  I'm not even going to tell my sponsor about this big tip.  Right away, anyhow.

My last big, big worry was that the owner of the apartment we had rented wouldn't be there to let us in.  The area in which we're staying is very vibrant during the day but very buttoned-down and security-doored at night, ominous to a very tired worrier.

There he was, prowling the street, looking for us.  In we went without a hitch.

I probably should make a big, old gratitude list.