I could not sleep the night before my early morning flight. I was too excited and nervous (I had thoughts of "I am going home...but will they let me out of the country???"). But I had no problems at the airport. I breezed through the numerous checkpoints and thus evidently all my paperwork was in order (you need an exit permit to leave the country and for the first time things worked out for me the way they are supposed to). Hallelujah! AND at two separate points I got compliments from airport officials about my name. They love the name Jade. It was after the second incident that I had a quick thought that I must get compliments about my name at least once a week. It is a name that is not so unique that you never hear it, but it is not a common name either. So I want to give mad props to my parents for giving me a great name. It puts a smile on the faces of others and makes me smile a little too, especially on a day when I was a bit stressed about traveling half way around the world.
On my flight from Doha to London, I thought I would have a whole row to myself. It was looking pretty good for a long time. But of course one last passenger boarded the plane and he sat in my row. No full row for me, but I cannot complain. But this was not any ol' passenger. This guy was straight up Bedouin. A nomad of the desert. Bedouins operate with the mindset of survival of the fittest. That is how it is in the desert. Many of the families in power across the Middle East are of Bedouin origin because of their ability to be the strongest. And the craziest drivers in Doha are supposedly Bedouins too. Anyway, this guy spoke absolutely no English (most Qataris who live in Doha know at least some English), felt that all the airplane rules did not apply to him, and proceeded to sit in his seat and not do anything for a good seven hours (I believe largely because he was not acquainted with the operations of the plane). But my favorite part, and the tipping point for me that this dude was Bedouin, was when we were all traversing through the gate at Heathrow and he stopped right before he got on the escalator. I quickly realized he had no idea how an escalator worked and thus grabbed this dude in a suit to help him go up it. It kind of reminded me of the movie Elf when Buddy also had trouble with the escalator. But why this Bedouin dude was going to London is beyond me...
Flight number #2. Off to Los Angeles! In about 11 hours I will be in America! Woo hoo…but ugh. These flights are killers (especially the last hours of these flights that seem to go on forever). I doubt I can do these long trips on a regular basis. Even though I sleep a lot and watch lots of movies on these flights (BTW I highly recommend La Luna Misma, Kung Fu Panda, Baby Mama, and the Sex and the City movie), it takes its toll. But making it home was worth it. I even got a little teary when the plane touched down in Los Angeles. Such a relief! I was home. AND my bag made it! My luggage gets lost at Heathrow every time. So when I saw it make the turn on the belt at LAX I was so relieved.
But I was not done. I still had one more flight (#3), but it was just a quick one to San Diego. And I must note that LAX is a mess of an airport. No signs anywhere. And while I wandered through LAX looking for my gate, all I wanted was a dang milkshake. Anyway, the flight to San Diego was beautiful! We followed the coast down. I was on the right side of the plane and got an amazing view of the stars over the Pacific Ocean (funny to think I started my day in the Persian Gulf). It was like they were three dimensional! I love looking up at the stars in the sky. I check them out nightly here in Qatar. This activity calms me down and makes me feel connected to the people in my life elsewhere around the world. It even makes me realize I am part of something much bigger than I will likely ever understand.
My week in San Diego was also filled with lots of firsts! Firsts in three months! Clouds, rain, slurpees from 7-11, Mexican food (got my fill in some capacity daily), bagels, running outside... It was just what the doctor ordered! And I got to see my amazing family! Talk about getting a much needed fix of love. I am going to cry just thinking about it…
Now to the wedding. Welcome to the family, Bryan!!! It was beautiful!!! All the work Arika put into it and the money my parents spent paid off. It appeared to me that Arika and Bryan were ready to get married. They just seemed so happy! Anyway, luckily we got a tent because during the reception it started to rain! But all the booze made up for it. Here are some pictures from the wedding:
Skyler was missing because he was with all the groomsmen. Lucky me did not have to be a bridesmaid! Yes! I hope to be married one of these days, but I have no desire for a fancy wedding.
Skyler is the third one from the left. Lookin' dapper in that fly suit.
The vows!
The kiss!
First dance as HUSBAND and wife...right, Mom?
My parents being goofy.
So that was the wedding. The next day I headed back to Doha. This time via Chicago and Frankfurt. I hardly remember the journey back. It was absolutely exhausting. All I know is that if I ever have children and I have to take him/her/them on a long flight, I am going to be prepared. He/she/they will be in his/her/their favorite PJs and I will bring his/her/their favorite blankets, pillows, toys and snacks along for the ride. I will treat it like I am going into battle! Why? Because I experienced yet another small child in the seat behind me who screamed and cried through most of a very long flight. I blame the parents who brought nothing for her (and dressed her in a dang dress and tights) and did little to quiet her. It was awful. But one amusing note was that the dude in the seat next to me ate my oatmeal bar when I got up at one point to stretch my legs. I was not going to eat it anyway since there were raisins in it (I like raisins, but not in my food). I come back to find the wrapper. I looked at the wrapper and then him and he basically says to me that the oatmeal bar was fair game because I only took one bite and then left it on my tray for nearly an hour. I did not really mind that much, but who eyes a stranger’s food and then eats their leftovers like that??? Crazy German...
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