**Original post date: various. Over the course of about a year.**
**Context: just a bunch of posts from my Tumblr written while I was sitting around in airports around the world**
I feel like I spend half my life in airports. I am not sure if that is a good or a bad thing. On the one hand, it’s good—I travel a lot. On the other hand, it’s not so good—lots of wasted hours sitting around in one place.
Over the last two years I have spent a particularly large amount of time in the Doha Interntional Airport. Between going to Kenya, living in Doha, and traveling around the gulf I really have sat in Terminal 2 a lot lately.
Duty free, anyone? But for all the time I have spent flying, I still don’t know what that actually means. It’s all overpriced anyway.
I have gotten a lot better at the “guess that language” and “guess that nationality” games as well. Large international airports are much more fun to people-watch in than smaller ones like San Diego international or Sacramento International.
Almost time to go through the gate to the bus. Then it’s on to Bahrain, and then to London. I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping much over the next 21 hours.
(15-03-2012, Doha International)
Untitled, pt. 2
I can’t stand people who decide that “one personal item and one carryon” means a purse, a laptop bag, a jacket, a duty free bag, and a rolling suitcase.
You, my friend, are the reason I have to shove my backpack and my purse under the seat in front of me because there is no room left in the overhead compartment.
Do you think there is no one else on this flight except yourself?
(15-03-2012, Doha International)
Heathrow international airport makes you pay for internet. Dammit.
The voice in my head has a British accent. It’s weird.
What’s weirder is the lack of thobes. And abayas. And Arabic. I answered a security officer with “لا” and the flight attendant with “شكراً”. I think I might have freaked them out. But it’s just natural now. What isn’t natural is all the American accents.
Culture shock is gonna be a bitch. Shit.
I watched “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, pt. 2” while I sat here. I cried. Of course. It was very undignified but I couldn’t help it, especially when Snape died. I am pretty sure I got a lot of funny looks from my fellow fliers. Ah well.
Neville is a badass. So is Mrs. Weasley. Just saying.
I also found Erin’s “because you are awesome and put up with my bullshit” present, as well as Salma’s very late birthday present.
I got off the bus at terminal 3 and headed straight to the Starbucks. Sorry, Erin, I really needed the caffeine. I didn’t get coffee, though, I got a chai tea latte for the first time in about six months. How weird. When the flight attendant came around on the plane from Bahrain she asked if I wanted something to drink, and when I said coffee she kind of laughed and said “well, that sounded a little desperate.” And I suppose it did. I was sort of asleep and just the smell of it from the cart thingy brought me back to consciousness.
Oh man. I am addicted. This can’t be good.
I also exchanged some riyals for British pounds. I gave them 100QAR and ended up with about 12 pounds and 50 pence. I guess that is what she said. What a rip off. But I figured I can keep the coins and I will have a bit of money for when I come back through here on Wednesday.
I checked out the airport’s London 2012 store. They had some cool stuff. By they also had some really cheesy stuff. I kinda wish I was going to be back here for the Olympics. But then again, it’s also going to be a nightmare. So I will stick with watching it on tv.
I am going to go try to find my gate now. I think I have a 12 hour flight ahead of me. Awesome.
(16-03-2012, Heathrow International)
So I found my gate. It took like 10 minutes to get there from the central terminal. No wonder they say to give yourself at least 2 hours in Heathrow. Crazy.
Anyway, I am sitting here just looking around at the people at my gate, who are apparently on my flight (not in a creepy way, I promise). There are a bunch of tattooed guys in punk looking clothing kind of wandering around. They might be looking for a place to sit, but one of them is definitely drunk. It’s only 11:17am. Jeez. I’m pretty sure even the Brits have a rule against drinking before noon. But anyway. They look like they are in a band—sort of a logical conclusion given that we are going to LA. I don’t recognize them, though, so maybe they are just starting out. Who knows.
Flights to and from the United States really have a ton more security than flights between other countries. I didn’t have to take off my shoes or get my liquids out of my bag when I left Doha. But leaving London to get to Los Angeles is a different story. I just spent five hours in the airport, but the security at the gate still feels the need to run my documents twice. And ask me where I was coming from. When I told them Doha by way of Bahrain she gave me a suspicious look and asked me what I was doing in Bahrain and how long I was there. I told her I lived in Doha and was only in Bahrain for an hour on a layover.
Jeez. So many Americans. It’s just too weird.
(16-03-2012, Heathrow International. Note: I made a quick, 72-hour trip to Los Angeles for my younger sister’s music college graduation. I think the traveling took more time than the actual trip.)