I felt like I was 70 degrees down in hell when I arrived in Kabul hours ago. Not because of the glamour of heat, it was February after all, but because of the state the airport adorned: ancient, cracked, used and ransacked during the wars. It looked way better than last time, they cleared most of the debris off the runway. We had survived the chain of rough unyielding mountains, cut like diamonds but in a carbon state. I’ve always hated flying and swore every flight had been the worst and filled with imaginary pilot errors. Turbulence is a testimony of our unnatural presence in the sky, it shouldn’t be. We’d be levitating by now if it was part of our DNA. Why do I need a machine to do something for me? Humans! Plus, after reading multiple times on the how’s, still not understanding the method of lift, clunks of metals lighter than air type of crap I figured if I can’t get it then my fear is justified. Can’t be worse than proving spiders are perfect miracles of God.
Then I heard an “Oy!” Guess who was calling me?
Four quick steps could have taken me to the door but I made the decision to a deep breath as I nervously answered “come in.” The swish of the door key opened the door ever so slowly, and an unsure face with aqua eyes made itself come through. In that matter we were equals, both apprehensive and disturbed by this imposed merge.
She started “you alreet,” in a very difficult to understand British accent and nodded “tis wez not summat I suggested.” She continued semi-nervously.
My eyes were wide open with the struggle of incomprehension, I had no clue what to respond and grabbed words in her blurbs, trying to be polite and accommodating . “Don’t worry about it; it’s not your fault. I’m glad I can help. I’d hope someone would do the same if it was me.”
This was going to be a long night.
No one was really looking for me. Only her. She needed some more accessories purchased before my departure and it was well too late for that.
I had felt very comfortable in Dubai and was dreading going to Kabul. In my mind, I was plotting reasons to permanently be stationed here. Weighing the tolerable against the repulsive. In short, I was afraid but I couldn’t tell anyone.
It was an I am back moment that could have been whispered into the wind, as I was not prepared to enjoy it.
Beige to the rescue. If everyone could be just as polite as I am.
Some people are just usurpers…
Because I was soooo wrong to assume. Ha.
If you could only see the botched copies of Department Of Defense material passed out to us, in a broken binder – I assumed sarcastically as training material, you would cry to death.
Lamest experience ever.
Thank God I had received real training, by appointed professionals (i.e. Military personnel) on certain terrain expectations before landing in Afghanistan the first time or else I would have shat myself for months.
Daftar Terminal you are: