The Getting Home Part

26 Jan 2025 - Sunday

Somehow everything I dread about leaving Kenya (except the actual leaving part) was a non-issue last night.  I wonder what stroke of luck I picked up along the way.  

The bush flight back to Nairobi landed a t 4:20 and I was checked into my day room at Four Points by 5:00.  While ordinarily a day room means you can stay until 9 p.m., the check-in staff said I’d have to vacate by 7:30.  There’s no way I was sitting in the nightmare of NBO for 4 1/2 hours.  I managed to negotiate leaving at 8:15 and so I did, expecting the usual sauna-like crush getting through immigration and to the gate.

The Four Points car dropped me at the Sky Priority entrance (and he walked me and my bag under and umbrella directly to the door, since it was now raining — Africa was cried when I left!)

I walked in and did the door security screening.  Got through that and looked up, bracing myself for the chaotic throngs that usually mean at least an hour through the next one, and saw….no one!  Was I early? Was I at the wrong place?  I didn’t think so.  But I had to get my second boarding pass because for whatever reason when using the Delta app, you cannot check in for a Kenya Airways flight at all, and then cannot access the connecting flight on Delta back to Boston.  So I popped into the empty Sky Priority check-in and got that taken care of. 

Immigration, no lines no waiting.  Security check to the gate, no lines no waiting.  And then I found myself with 4 hours to kill, so I went to the lounge which was packed bumper to bumper last time, and it too was empty.  So just where was everyone?  Or why were the last two times I went through this such nightmares?  Anyway, I will not look a gift horse in the mouth. I drank water and Sprite and tried to keep myself awake.  It was quite warm in the lounge so as 10 pm approached and the nice couple from NYC I was chatting with had to leave for their flight, I went downstairs just to keep moving.

The gate for the flight was downstairs, which was a blessing because the door was open so the sauna-like conditions of an upstairs gate were avoided (seriously, I should go play the lottery at this point…). But I wondered if being tarmac-level meant bus transfer to the plane.  No, it did not. It meant a quick jaunt across the tarmac and up stairs to the jetway.  Odd, but I went with it.  I settled into my seat and fought to stay awake until take-off.  I told the flight attendant I didn’t want a meal until breakfast and that is the last thing I remember.  I woke up and we were already crossing the Mediterranean and heading for France.  Only 90 minutes left in the flight!  So I guess I slept most of the 8 hours.  Phew.

Deplaning was a breeze and it took about 15 minutes to get to my next terminal.  It was 6:30 so lots of time to kill.  I bought lip balm for my horribly chapped lips and some dehydration tablets and then hit the Air France lounge.  A few cappuccinos later and I was feeling almost human.  I may try to get a facial or manicure since I’m in dire need of both.

I’m definitely in a “smile because it happened, don’t cry because it’s over” mindset right now.  My focus is on getting home to my kitties and checking on things at home.  I’m desperate to get a look at my photos but I’m afraid between work and jet lag it may be until next weekend that I do.  WAH.  But I’m already looking at the clock and wondering what my guides are doing at this hour, what cats they’re seeing, what they’re having for bush breakfast.  It kills me that all of it still goes on without me, but Francis says that same passion is what will pull me back there.  I think he’s likely right.