Waiting at the Airport
If you know anything about me, I HATE waiting at airports. It is totally absurd, I swear! Thankfully, Hamza was to arrive at Sharjah Airport, not Dubai’s, which is much much less hectic and traffic is negligible.
Or so I thought.
I am not going to say why Hamza was late – he will write about that and the abysmal security measures – so I will focus on my waiting and the incalculable entertainment I got from “mishaps”.
You see, a glass partition divides the hall into an area for sorry people like me to wait, while we look upon the other side picking out faces we know. Now, since there is a LOT of lighting at SHJ airport… SO SO SO MUCH lighting (or, rather, weird lighting angles), the guys thought that it would be a good idea to treat the glass such that it has minimal glare and reflections, so that both sides can see each other clearly.
Now, any sane adult will logically know there is a partition (obviously, no one can lean on empty space). Kids however, do not.
I think I counted over 8 kids who slammed into the glass, running to greet their other parent/grandpa/grandma/child molester. I was sipping my cappuccino, whilst counting the hours I have been awake and trying to reorganize the schedule mentally to accommodate Hamza being late.
Every time I come up with a good schedule, I hear “mama/baba/someweirdasslanguage” followed shortly by “splat” and “heeeeeee” of people in that area followed by crying followed by giggling from young men like me waiting for their friends/girlfriends/fiance/coffins.
Hamza told me the situation is hopeless and it is better that I go home. I contemplated for a minute and went outside, only to see that people have exponentially multiplied like bacteria and congregating around the airport like it was the sole provider of bread for an upcoming invasion by invisible pink terrestrial octopuses. 10 minutes later after wiggling through the crowd, I found my way outside, and it looks like the issue that Hamza was having was shared by more than 300 people, and if you have 2-5 people waiting outside per person inside, you got around 800 people just outside the airport. And it is a very, very small airport, unlike Dubai’s mammoth airport.
Dammit where is my car!
Crap… to reach home I need at least an hour to get out of here. I call Hamza and tell him I will wait.
And wait
And wait
Splat
And wait
Splat
And wait and wait and splat and wait.
During that time I:
- reorganized the schedule roughly 4 times
- admired the glass for not breaking
- played 7 rounds of tetris
- reconstructed videoclips of my own imagination for three songs (chasing cars, hands held high, fields of gold [eva cassidy version]) with several versions each
- thought about this blog post
- wondered where I will be getting the other X360 controller because Hamza insists I play Halo 3 co-op *dies*
- drew a mental map of the parking and the shortest path out of it in terms of distance, time, and least amount of people overrun
- imagined a situation where I illegally get out of the parking (without paying the toll) to be chased by police across town, have Hamza deported and I jailed then I tell my sister in my only phone call to send an email to Qwaider to start a Free Kinan campaign on blog
- make mental notes of the amount of laundry I need to do to fully function next week without having to worry about Morning Panic Attacks when I open the drawer to find there are no socks
and then splat.
Now check Hamza’s point of view of the events here.
KJ & Hamza… yup shaved my head LoL
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