Getting There

Wow. What a drama this trip has turned into.

Firstly, I have thought for the past 7 weeks that I fly out of Thailand on Saturday night. On Wednesday night I realised that in actual fact, I fly out on Friday night. As you may or may not know, Thailand is currently experiencing its worst flooding in decades, thus, the usual bus from Mae Sot to Bangkok was not an option. I managed to battle a terrible internet connection to book the only flight out of Mae Sot on a 6-seater plane, to Chiang Mai, and then a flight from there to Bangkok. But, then I got a call on Thursday night saying that the engine of the little plane has malfunctioned and the flight is cancelled. Ok. So then I had to get up at 4am to get to the bus station in time to try and get a seat on the 6am bus to Chaing Mai instead. Ended up getting there ok, and finally got to Bangkok. At this stage my stress levels began to subside a little. After a 7 hour wait to check in at Bangkok international, I find that my first flight to Kuwait, with Kuwait Airways, has been delayed in Manila. So we are all sent to a hotel for the 8 hour wait. As I am going to miss my connecting flight from Kuwait – London, and therefore my London to New York flight, I am told I will be transferred to Lufthansa airlines in Kuwait, and will be flying to Frankfurt with them instead, and then on to New York. Hmm, ok. I can handle this. It means I won’t arrive in NYC until about 19 hours after I was meant to be there. But at least I am now in the care of Kuwait Airways now, so I am there problem to look after. After a pretty deep sleep (by this time I’ve been up for nearly 24 hours without any sleep at all) I get a wakeup call at 6am. In my bleary state I manage to shower and head downstairs for breakfast and my transfer back to the airport soon. The hotel allows me to use their internet free of charge as I need to get in touch with those meeting me in NYC. How kind. I’ve just finished breakfast and am about to go and wait for my pick-up when I am informed that, unfortunately, our pilot is not feeling well, and he cannot fly. So we are being delayed once more while they attempt to find a replacement pilot, and would I like to go back to my room to wait, as they have no idea at all how long we will be waiting for. Sheesh. The only slightly positive thing I can think of is that my connecting flight in Kuwait is around 10 hours after my arrival, so at this stage, I am hoping that this new delay won’t make me miss my connection. 

Tha brings me to now. Sitting in my room, in an incredibly fancy hotel, hoping against hope that I get a call soon letting me know that we will be in the air shortly.

At this point, I’m not entirely sure what else could hinder me getting to New York. So far I have faced the possibility of my own sheer stupidity and inability to read a flight itinirary me miss the flight entirely the wrath of nature, with her intense flooding. I’ve also dodged a bullet by having the engine of my tiny Cessna not fail on me mid-air

Kuwait City

This place is a desert indeed. Flying in, all I could see was dry, scorched earth. The men will not stop staring, and the women will not meet my gaze. They are so mysterious and alluring in their full veils, I strive to see their faces through the sheer fabric. The outdoor heat is dry and stifling. Much different to the wet, tropical heat of Thailand. There are “no smoking” signs everywhere, accompanied by ashtrays for your smoking convenience. The hotel is comfortable, but nowhere near as luxurious as the one in Bangkok. The food is a little rough. I detect two different goat curries, and opt for a giant bowl of the most delicious homemade Greek-style yogurt I’ve ever eaten. And an orange. I have the same meal for dinner.

It’s now only an hour until we are to be returned to the airport to check back in with Lufthansa for the flight to Frankfurt. I can only hope that on this flight I will not be seated next to a Kuwaiti man that will not stop unashamedly staring at me. Even while I sleep (probably more so when I sleep actually). Having a rather large Arab man sitting a mere 7cm from you and having no shame in staring at you intently for 8 hours gets a little tiring. 

And then...

Well, all I can say is that Lufthansa is an exponentially better airline than Kuwait and even though it was the biggest mission ever, being transferred to them made my two flights with them so much more comfortable, plus, they are randomly hooked up with Air NZ and gave me a heap of free air points which was pretty good. Needless to say, however, I finally arrived in New York on the verge of falling apart at the seams, as by this point I had been travelling for approximately 90 hours. And of course, the boys were late to pick me up as they had to battle the force that is New York traffic. But boy oh boy is I happy to see their tired, hungover and ragged faces. I am bundled into the van (a Chevrolet “Good Times” model), and the amazing party begins right then with slices and a show just off Broadway.