I left Trinidad on the 17th of December. My dad dropped me to the airport, and by 'dropped me to the airport' I mean he flew me to JFK to pick up my connecting flight to Doha on our national carrier, and the airline I left behind for my adventure.
Happy and excited, I waited patiently in the terminal for ten long hours before my first-class flight to my new life in Doha, Qatar.
All I remember of my thirteen hour flight was the five-star four-course meal and wine list, the first few minutes of a new movie and a cabin attendant asking me if he can make my bed after dinner, if I wanted any warm cookies or fine chocolates, and not to forget the blanket folded by my feet next to my pyjamas. I woke up nine hours later.
Ryan, my husband, was in Hong Kong. Feeling badly about not being there to meet me at the end of my thirty hour trip he arranged a meet-and-greet through Al Maha, a royal-treatment service that fast-tracks you through passport control and baggage claim. As I sat in the VIP lounge waiting for my personal agent who met me at the aircraft to organize my passport and bags, I watched the 300 people from my flight scurry into the already hundreds-long immigration line of other passengers that had no doubt also travelled all day and were just as tired as I was.
My agent walked me and my porter out of the terminal. I was thrilled to see two familiar faces smiling and waving. Dani and Sabine -- what a welcome party. And who needed sleep..? I had left home from one lovely au revoir tea party with close friends and arrived to a drinks-night with my Doha girls.
Sleep is for the dead they say..
I felt like death for the next ten days.
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