Sri Lanka ain't Going Anywhere

Last Wednesday I took a cab to the airport. I was getting into one of those pensive moments that can come on easily when you're riding in a car at night and looking out the window. I entered that blissful state of mind where one feels...happy. I just smiled and laughed lightly to myself, thinking, "Things are pretty damn good right now. Parent conferences are over, I'm planned (mostly) for the short week next week, Eid vacation is underway, X-mas is coming quick, and I'm headed to Sri Lanka to help break-in my brand new hiking boots. For whatever reason, I've always been the type of person that has to learn things the hard way.

First off, standing in line with Arabs is difficult enough. The too considerate and nice will never move forward. I walk in the airport with my luggage on wheels in one hand and a sleeping bag in the other. "Which airlines?" One of the employees asks me. "Qatar." I'm amidst some hub-bub, but he points backwards for me to go to the back of the line. At this point I'm too far away to really see how many people are ahead of me in line, and defintely too far to see how few check-in counters are actually being used. It's 9:05pm; my flight is at 10:35pm. At 10:05-ish I make it to the check-in counter. During that hour of waiting I lost my spot in line several times (at one point I saw how far back I'd gotten, I asked some Americans if I could cut and sneak behind them since I was right behind them earlier in the night.) The mess of people waiting to check-in was half in a line and half in a passive shoving match. Let's just say there wre several arguments and blatant disregard for the ropes that everyone is supposed to weave through. Every 20 minutes another row of ropes would get knocked over and everyone in that part of the line would lose their spot and have to fight for it back! But this wasn't even the most stressful part of the night.

When I got to the check-in, the guy sent me to another counter without giving me a straight answer. So...I have to waste a few minutes waiting in line there. The guy looks at my ticket and says, "You're flying through Doha."
"Yep." He points to one of the security guys a few yards away and tells me to talk to him. What?! Just take my freakin' luggage and let me be on my way! I can't remember if that guy gave me a straight answer either. But I walk up to the security person and he punches me in the chest...not literally, but verbally. I say, "Qatar Airlines! Where do I go?
"Qatar? Their counter is closed." Blow to the chest. He says go to the Qatar office outside. I start walking away and remember there is nothing outside. "Wait, where outside?" He tells me out side and up the stairs. (Why didn't you say that in the first place?!) Of course I go outside and I see no stairs, just people getting dropped off. By this time I'm already running around the airport, switching my luggage from one arm to the other because it's not light.

I finally found the Qatar Airlines office. And it was not easy to find...poorly labled...not customer friendly. Two, rather bored looking men, look up from their computers. I explain my situation. "Oh yeah," he says "the Qatar airlines closes one-hour before the last flight of the day." No where on my ticket was this advertised! So...I punch both of them in the chest and storm out...not really. I don't know...call me old fashioned but I'd like to have the option of checking my luggage 50 minutes before a flight and still know that the counter is open to do so. So...after some pouting, some alone time sitting cross-legged on the airport floor, and convincing myself that an impromptu trip ao another Arab country by myself is not a good idea, I took a very sad cab ride home.