Take off, hoser!

I have never ridden in a car going as fast as I just did on the way to the Bangkok airport. Not as a teenager, my brother trying to scare me so badly as to make me pee my pants. Not as a passenger when a certain cop friend o' mine is driving. I was running a bit behind, true, and there was a good deal of traffic. But once on the highway, no major trouble. Still, for the last 12 mile stretch to the airport, my cabdriver must have been inspired by the planes overhead. If the car'd had wings, we'd have lifted off the ground for sure. Now, I don't mind an assertive driver, even aggressive, but this was a bit too close to nuts for me.

It's weird the waiting game. Waiting a few more days, a few more (as in 26) hours before being home. Feelings of nervousness and anxiety to return, but in a good way, mixed with feelings of sadness that the adventure is done. The pilot just came on the PA in the airplane to let us know that we should expect turbulence for the first 3 hours of our flight to Doha, Qatar, my layover. THREE HOURS?!? Really, buddy? Couldn't you just say that we may experience some turbulence? No, it shall be.

Great. The first hour wasn't so bad. Yes, some turbulence. Then dinner was served and drinks. And all hell broke loose. I have never witnessed what must have been 10 foot jumps while on a plane before. My tray went flying. I actually considered whether I should drink the rest of my mini-bottle of red or if I'd prefer to be sober for the crash. Lights flickered on and off inside the cabin. The nearest person to me, a sexpat with old school tattoes, I had seen him drop a few pills at takeoff. No reassuring glances from him, looks like I'm going to have to talk myself through this one. I clutched the armrests and repeated the word calm for what felt like hours. Flying over the Bengal Sea during a storm, man? No. Thank. You.

I would have never thought I could be so happy to reach the Arabian Peninsula.