Day 925: The 'Hello' of 2010

One year ago today I became proud father of my second boy, Gilliam James.  And it… was… amazing!

As a husband/partner Gilliam’s birth rocked.  After experiencing Grayson’s birth and supporting Serena’s career as a Doula (Professional Birth Assistant) … I was battle ready when it came to Gilliam.  Sure, we had hired Doulas to attend both Grayson and Gilliam’s births, however my role in association with the Doula was complete different at each. 

For Grayson’s birth, understandably so, I had no idea what I was going on or what Serena needed… so our Doula took the lead and I pretty much assisted her while she assisted Serena.  (To all first time dads, I highly recommend having a Doula!)

However, going into Gilliam’s birth I had a really good idea of what to expect and I feel like I was about to stepped up to the plate.   As a result, Serena and I functioned more like a team and our Doula was there assisting us, which is how it should be.

In addition, experiencing the birth of your child is so much better the second time, no offence Grayson… but I didn’t have any of the anxieties I am sure most guys have just before they become a father.  No worries about the pain Serena was going through. No thoughts of “oh my God… am I really ready for this?”  No thoughts of misgivings or fears of any kind distracted me from simply enjoying the moment.

While I had been, almost, afraid to touch Grayson at first (opting out of cutting the cord personally), being completely overwhelmed by how surreal the whole experience was and trying to wrap my head around the life meaning behind what I just witness… with Gilliam there wasn’t anything to think about.  I just took the scissors, snipped, ripped my t-shirt off and scooped that dirty little guy up skin-to-skin while the nurses wrapped the two of us with warm blackest.  And we just rocked… only for about ten minutes or so, but it was long enough to introduce myself, “Hi… I’m your dad.” 

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Oh man… In the spirit of full disclosure… being away on Gilliam’s first birthday is killing me.   It’s not fun at all.  Sure, Gilliam was six months old when I left to come over here… but those young months are mommy months.  Grayson didn’t really care who I was until around 10 months… which happened to be Gilliam’s age when I made it home for my first R&R last December.  And those three weeks I spent home changed a lot for me and Gilly.

Sure, during those first few months away we skyped a lot, pretty much every day, so Gilliam knew of me… but he didn’t really who I was in relation to him.  And honestly… I didn’t really know anything about him either.  But something clicked while I was home on R&R.  It was like he all of a sudden realized, “Ah… this is the dada guy you’ve been telling me about,” and as he warmed to me… I was finally able to see Gilliam as his own person; recognize and appreciate how he was different than Grayson.  We bonded for real. 

Now, according to Serena, whenever Gilliam hears the distinctive ring of skype he begins a ‘dada’ chant.  And he apparently has pretty good ears, because a couple times while they’ve been upstairs Gilliam has started saying ‘dada’ over and over again… and upon returning to be main floor where Serena keeps the computer she’s discovered a missed call from me.

And if that’s too cute for you… listen to this:

Serena normally hooks her laptop up to our TV when we skype so the boys can see me better… well, Gilliam has started taking Serena the television remote saying, “dada, dada, dada”… and when Serena takes the remote, Gilly will B-line for the TV and look back to Serena in great disappointment when I don’t immediately appear.

And how do you like that?  It sure makes this absent father feel pretty dang good about himself.

I love you too Gilly. 

Happy Birthday and I’ll see you soon.

Day 924: Missed Milestone

So far I’ve missed Gilliam’s first crawl, first solid food, first steps, and first word.  As heartbreaking as it is, he was only 6 months old when I left for Pakistan, so missing those milestones were expected.  Not that I am minimizing my fatherly regret for being away… that regret is real… but you can’t expect a boy to stop growing while you’re away. 

However, I had only prepared myself to miss Gilliam’s milestones.  I hadn’t given any thought to potential Grayson milestones I might miss this year.  And I have to say… when it happened, the feelings of absence took me completely off guard.

A while back I mentioned that my parents were giving Grayson a new bicycle for Christmas.  And while I was putting it together Serena asked me not to put the training wheels on, “He’s ready for a two wheeler.”

I was pretty surprised… I hadn’t even thought of Grayson as a two wheeler riding kid.  I was pretty excited by the idea.  But unfortunately, there was too much snow on the ground for us to take it for a test drive before I left.

So… about a week later Serena taught Grayson to ride his bike.  “He’s so good honey, he’s a natural.  You’ll be so proud of him.”

And I am.  I am incredible proud of Grayson for learning to ride his bike without training wheels.  And I am equally thankful to have Serena as my better half.  She is doing such an amazing job with the boys while I’m away.

But, at the same time… I wish I had been there.

And I guess that’s all I have to say about that.

Day 923: Jetlag… There’s Just No Winning, Part 2

So, yesterday I shared with you my jetlag combat ritual.  A ritual that has been highly successful in helping me adjust to major time zone changes quickly.  However, in early January, when I returned to Islamabad, I realized that I had completely overlooked a very important component to my method.

In short… it doesn’t work unless you’re tired.

You see… whenever I travel long distances I always seem to lose a day, or, since I’m not known for sleeping on planes, I normally end a trip suffering from some level of sleep deprivation.  So… for the most part, my rally to stay awake ritual is very effective.

However, during my flight from Istanbul to Islamabad… I slept.  Since there wasn’t really an in-flight entertainment, I threw my headphones on I pretty much fell asleep after dinner… through our layover in Abu Dhabi… and all the way to Islamabad.  Now… I’m not going to say that I slept well… the seats were incredible uncomfortable and I was constantly adjusting my position… but for the most part I slept.

Funny enough, I was so out of it while on the Abu Dhabi tarmac that I have no recollection of the passengers bound for Abu Dhabi disembarking.  And furthermore, I didn’t even know when the new passengers bound for Islamabad started boarding… at least at first.  I wouldn’t have known at all if some inconsiderate slob hadn’t waked me up.

I had a bulkhead seat and I had slumped down with my legs crossed against the wall in front of me… sleeping.  I still don’t know what this guy’s problem was… but you’ll probably like how this side note ends… I can only assume, while boarding, he accidently went down the wrong aisle and needed to cut back across (an assumption I ended up being wrong about)… but instead of cutting through one of the flight crew workstations (like a normal person) he decided to cut through the bulkhead row...  where I was sleeping.  And instead of politely stepping over my legs or saying excuse me (like a normal person), this guy just plowed through me.  I woke to the sensation of falling as my crossed leg fell to the floor, like a ‘bump’ from the movie ‘Inception’… and… are you ready for this?  Without a thought… running on pure instinct and a certain amount of compulsion… I shouted “EXCUSE YOU!”  This is something I wouldn’t normally have done… but I was too tired to care… and more importantly, too tired to be embarrassed.  And then with great flare, I re-crossed my legs and went back to sleep.

About two minutes later I was woken up with the same man standing over me saying ‘Excuse me, sir.”  And I politely removed my legs from his path.  I’m still not sure what he needed to cross back in front of me… but 

at least he said excuse me.  Right?

Anyway, the actual point to my post has nothing to do with that guy… just the fact that I slept on the plane.  I guess I slept a lot because even though my back was killing me when I arrived, I wasn’t very tired.  But I was VERY hungry… and so, true to form, after I got home I ordered some food (Chicken Karahi, yummy, yummy), unpacked, skyped with Serena and the boys, and finally curled up on the couch to watch a few movies… and then, around 10pm… my normal bed time (I have to get 8 hours of sleep or I’m no good to anyone), I moved from the couch to the bed... however… I couldn’t fall asleep.  I couldn’t fall asleep until around 2am.

Incidentally, Islamabad is only 4 hours east of Belgrade… oddly enough… this is the first time I’ve EVER gone 4 hours east.  I’ve gone three hours east twice and I don’t remember it being an issue… but, then again, I was in middle school at the time.  But now?  4 hours east?  Falling asleep at 2am in Islamabad?  Well… I guess it was 10am in Belgrade, but that wasn’t much of a comfort.

And remember what I said yesterday about it normally taking one day per time zone change to adjust?  Yeah… not this time.  One 2am bedtime turned into two days… which turned into 4 days… and when I finally fell asleep I was so tired that I had trouble waking up in time for work.  4 days turned in 8 days… and finally… on day 10… I couldn’t take it anymore… I was desperate… when I got home from work on day 10 I took a Benadryl.  It was all I had… I’m not proud of my method and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it… but it worked.  I fell asleep at 10pm and I’ve been regular ever since. 

And just to offer a comparison… it only took me eight days to adjust to the 11 hour time difference from Washington, DC when I first arrived in Pakistan.

I don’t know what to tell you folks… 6 or 11 hours might sound horrible… but 4 hours is the worst.  I would much rather be deliriously tired at the end of the day and fall asleep naturally then be wide awake when it’s time to go to bed.  I left my insomniac tendencies in college and I aim to leave them there… I don’t have time for it now.

And just to be safe… I’ve already ordered some Melatonin for my next big trip.  But if any of you have better tips for dealing with, what I call, reverse Jetlag, let me know.

Day 922: Jetlag… There’s Just No Winning, Part 1

Jetlag is a very funny thing… and I’m done trying to figure it out.

Back on Day 136, when I first arrived in Belgrade, a 6 hour time difference, I wrote an entry titled ‘Jetlag, The Devil’ (http://schutzhappens.blogspot.com/2008/12/day-136-jetlag-devil.html)... It was the first time I had gone 6 hours East and it was pretty painful… and well… we made some pretty serious jetlag combat mistakes… however; when we arrived, we were moved into a temporary apartment that didn’t have internet or watchable television.  So, the odds of us quickly adjusting to the time difference was slim to none. 

The key to combating Jetlag is to stay busy… stay engaged in something… when you are tired, you have to rally and stay up as long as you can.  No matter how many time zones you cross, going East or West, you need to keep yourself up until at least 7pm… the closer you can get to 9pm the better.

That said, after jumping a significant number of time zones socializing with friends or family is the easiest away to rally.  After traveling 6 hours West for the first time, my buddy Costello kept me up until 2am… I hadn’t slept in something like 32 hours.)  And the second time I flew from the East Coast to Belgrade I specifically planned my return for the night of our neighborhood Halloween party… that one worked like a charm too.

However… when you’re on your own and in a place where your friends and family aren’t available to help you rally, aka stuck in a random hotel, I highly suggest a television, an internet connection, room service/delivery, a shower, and a television again… in that order.

After checking into a hotel, I will normally get settled by checking the available television stations… and then Google their television listings.  My goal is to find an interesting show or movie that I’ve never seen before that starts between 7 or 8pm.  The timing of the movie is important, because it will dictate the schedule of your other rally activities and you don’t want to start relaxing too soon.  You also don’t want to pick something you’ve seen before because you’ll be more likely to fall asleep earlier than later.  If you find a really great movie you might make it to 9 or 10pm… which is awesome!

After picking out my movie, I turn to the internet.  I can waste some serious time emailing, skyping, and blogging.  And as I said, it’s very important to stay busy… and it’s just as important to put off eating as long as possible.  A full belly is going to make you tired… an empty belly is going to keep you up.  I like to wait until a normal meal time (5ish) or when I can’t bear it anymore.  And after dinner… I’ll take a nice long shower… another task that I’ll put off as long as possible, no matter how nasty I feel from all my travels.  A hot shower and a full belly is probably the worst combination for battling jetlag… but if you plan your timing right, by the time you’re done surfing, eating, and cleaning… it’ll be movie time, which is where the television comes into play for the second time. 

When traveling on my own, I find this ritual VERY effective.  Even when I moved to Pakistan, crossing 11 time zones.

Now, I’m not saying that following my ritual will mean you’ll adjust to a new time zone over night.  As a rule it takes about one day per time zone crossed to fully adjust… and no matter what you do during those adjustment days, you’ll feel an awful lot like you’re in college again, when it’s midnight and you’re having to write a paper you haven’t started yet that is due at 8am… while your drunk.

However, for me… following my jetlag combat ritual consistently cuts the adjustment time in half. 

That is until this January… when I was bested by a 4 hour time change.

To be continued…

Day 921: A Very Fancy Motorcycle Indeed

They say ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’… this is very true… because I am kicking myself for leaving my camera at home and I’m going to try my best to keep this post under a thousand words (but no promises).

In general, getting around Islamabad is quite the adventure.  Drivers tend to weave from lane to lane with total disregard for other vehicles… the concept of ‘maintaining lane’ is completely lost since many drivers will center themselves on a lane line for kilometers at a time leaving you to guess which lane they intend to use…  And I’ve actually heard people describe lane lines as an aesthetic to make Islamabad appear beautiful rather than serving an actual function.

Drivers will often ignore traffic signals… ignore right of ways… and when merging with traffic, they do so without matching the speed of said traffic (often times cutting you off at a high rate of speed and once they have overtaken the lane slow down to a crawl… for what reason, I haven’t the foggiest).

Couple this with the fact that people will simple stop and park in middle of a busy street… or the pedestrians who gingerly cross streets that resemble interstate highways without regard for their own lives… or the other pedestrians who walk three abreast on a busy road rather than walking on sidewalks or in the grass… or even the bicycles who weave in and out of traffic without an ounce of control or a care in the world (I’ve actually seen a man on a bicycle hit a parked car dead on).

Then there are the motorcycles… and there are a ton of them.  They drive as erratically as the bicycles and with the speed of the automobiles.  And the amazing thing about the motorcycles is how many people you’ll see pilled on.  Sure, it’s common place to see two people on a motorcycle anywhere in the world… but so far, the record I’ve seen here is seven.  That’s right.  Seven people on one motorcycle.  An entire family.  Three children in the front, between the handle bars and their father, who was driving, followed by the mother sitting side saddle while holding two small children.  That’s right… let me slow it down for you: Side Saddle… Holding… TWO… Small Children.  I wish I had a picture.

All the women ride motorcycles side saddle over here, which is very nerve wrecking while in traffic…and I wish I was lying, but holding babies and toddlers on motorcycles while sitting side saddle on a motorcycle is common place.  It’s crazy.  I have no idea how they stay on.

No one is strapped in and no one is wearing a helmet.

And you might think this picture is the one that’s worth a thousand words… well it’s not.  It’s the fact that I recently saw a similar family outing on a motorcycle… their NEW motorcycle.  How do I know it was their NEW motorcycle? 

Well… they still had the bubble wrap on their side view mirrors… rendering them completely useless… as they weaved, as a family, carelessly through Islamabad traffic… without an ounce of control or a care in the world.

When I drive through the streets of Islamabad, I spend most of my time recounting my CPR and emergency medical training… it’s sad but true.   I hope I don’t have to use it… but I will if I have too.

Work Count: 572

Day 920: Turkish Airlines Toilet Safety Video

When you fly as much as I do it is really hard to pay attention to the safety instructions given at the beginning of the flight… especially if the instructions are giving in multiple languages and are underscored with light and relaxing music.

The one treat however is to see how each airline handles their safely briefing… and well… so far Turkish Airlines is my favorite… when it comes to a comical presentation.

First of all… their video is excruciatingly long (as you will see in the embedded video).  However, there are moments of brilliance, mainly due to their use of computer animation coupled with a non-computer generated guy in a box signing everything for the hearing impaired?

My two favorite parts of the video take place at time marks 1:50 and 4:47.

1:50 – This part contains instructions for using infant seat belts when the infant in traveling in your lap.  I love how the curious computer generated infant watches the headless mother strap it in and then look up at the camera.  Every time I see it I am expecting the infant to give a pick smile and thumbs up to the camera.

4:47 – At this point, almost five minutes in, I had totally lost my concentration and was recounting what I had learned before regarding my nearest exits just in case my boredom morphed into the need to escape… however, when I heard the word toilet Turkish Air regained my attention.  Their freakishly long video has a section on toilet safety.  Now, most airlines mention their no-smoking policy and will mention that the policy also applies to the lavatories.. but that’s pretty much as far as the potty talk goes.  Turkish’s 3D animated toilet safely portion totally caught me off guard and made me laugh out loud.

Day 919: In-Flight Movie, Thank You 1984 VCR!

So… I’ve flown on quite a few airlines.  Hands down my favorite International carriers are Emirates, Qatar, and for the most part Lufthansa, (Incidentally, my favorite American carrier is Frontier).  Anyway… I’ve also flown on quite a few duds… but when it comes to flying on duds… you’re almost never going very far and most importantly… you’re never on the plane very long.  I can fly on anything for 3 hours without breaking a sweat. 

However, when I’m flying over three hours (which usually means I’m taking multiple flights in a 24 hours period) I become a bit of a snob… and I’ll own that about myself.  But honestly, I’m only picking about two things:

First, the food needs to be good.  I have a personal rule regarding airplane food: No matter what… eat everything they give you.  And it’s much easier to wolf-down food that actually tastes good.

Why eat everything?  Well, airlines serve food at random intervals which are hard to predict at times… especially when unknown factors, like turbulence, can turn off all ‘scheduled’ services… simply put, you’ll never know when your next meal is coming.  Which is also why I always try to eat something before flights and why I always travel with a high protein snack, like trail mix.  Being hungry on an airplane is miserable, plus, if you have a full belly it will be easier to sleep… or at least relax.

Second, I need quality entertainment… preferably a personal LCD screen packed full of movies.  This helps to pass the time immensely.   Airlines like Emirates and Qatar probably have a 100 movies available, both new and old, that you can watch at your leisure… and all of their planes have the same movies to pick from.  If I know my next flight in on the same carrier, I will actually start a movie near the end of the first flight… and then finish it on my second flight.  It’s pretty awesome for a movie addict like me who gets bored very easily.

Well… I’ve told you a little bit about my experience flying on Turkish Air from Belgrade to Istanbul recently… but I haven’t told you about my experience on my connecting flight destine for Islamabad, operated… by… another airline.  What first began as a very maddening experience quickly became one of my most hilarious travel stories EVER.

Now, the maddening part wasn’t the fact that they had a hand written list of names at the transfer desk…

Or the fact that they could only offer me a hand written boarding pass to get through security, the same security that didn’t know where Islamabad was and kept telling me in broken English, “Yes, Istanbul, you are here!”…

Or the fact that they needed to photo copy my passport, Turkish Air boarding pass, and baggage claim sticker so they could find the luggage I had checked all the way through (I was honestly surprised when it arrived without issue)…

Or the fact that half of my flight consisted of Pakistani’s who were being deported from Turkey… and I watches as they were all given drops of a sleep agent under their tongues before the flight…

Or the fact that, what I thought was a direct flight to Islamabad, was actually scheduled to stop  on the tarmac of another major airport five hours away at 3am for three hours (which ended up being closer to five) to pick-up more passengers…

Or the fact that I couldn’t get a business class upgrade because the entire section was being occupied by the families of the folks flying the plane (I’m not kidding about this… the pilot and stewart’s spent most of their time hanging with their wives and kids).

Or the fact that the food was sketchy at best (although, per my rule, I still ate everything and didn’t get sick)… or the fact that the seats were abnormally thin so that I was shoulder to shoulder with the guy sitting next to me…

Do you think these things got me down?  No… for the most part I was cool with all this (except the stop on the other tarmac was a killer… And I don’t really like being should to should for long flights).  But, you know me… I roll with the punches… I getter done.

No… what really took the wind out of my sails was the lack of a personal LCD screen. 

In anticipation for my 8 hour flight (which ended up being over 10 hours on the plane), I had visited the airlines website to verify their entertainment offerings.  Judging from their site… I was going to be a-okay.  But I found nothing. 

However… there was a medium sized projection screen on the bulk head wall… so there was a glimmer of hope… but I was still pissed off about it.

About 10 minutes into the flight, just before meal service one of the stewarts immerged from business class holding three black VHS cassettes with hand written labels, like when my father used to record the NBC’s movie of the week or ‘Murder She Wrote’.

Another glimmer of hope… my first thought was, “Please Lord, I’ve been good… please let it be an in-flight movie!”

And you know what?  God answered my prayer.  It was an in-flight movie.  There I was… on my way to Pakistan… eating mutton and a dinner roll… watching Peter O’Toole and Audrey Hepburn in William Wyler’s 1966 ‘masterpiece’ “How to Steal a Million”. 

Being a movie buff I got pretty excited.  I hadn’t seen “How to Steal a Million”… and based on the tracking issues of the VHS cassette and the poor sound quality I can honestly tell you that I still having seen “How to Steal a Million”… but really… it was the effort that counted.

And I really wish they had shown a second movie… like when the passengers got restless when we were stuck on the tarmac for three (plus) hours… or during our last leg into Islamabad.

But you know?  You can’t have everything.  Besides… I get to keep the story forever.

 

Day 918: Year in Review – 2010

Wow… 2010.  The year of Gilliam… and to a lesser level… the year of Pakistan.  However, any which way you slice it, 2010 was truly remarkable and life changing.

That said, the year should probably be fresher in my mind than it actually is.  In fact… I can only remember two occasions with great clarity… and honestly, those are the only two memories I want to keep from that year.  They simply involve a ‘Hello’ and a ‘Goodbye’. 

But since the two very special boys involved these memories have birthdays just around the corner… I think I’ll wait until then so I can do both memories justice.  Come back January 31^st for ‘The Hello’ and February 10^th for ‘The Goodbye’.

As for the rest of the year?  Well, after exploring 9 years of rather depressing videos recapping the decade… I found one for 2010 that is amazingly creative and inspiring.  I love it!  Enjoy!

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0QXB5pw2qE)

Day 917: SchutzHappens, December 2010, Part 2 – ‘Christmas TV’

Day 916: Let Me Off This Plane!

So… I don’t know where to start when it comes to airplane etiquette.  It’s a difficult subject.  Culturally, some folks don’t understand the concept of standing line and waiting their turn.  Now, the British are excellent at this… they pride themselves on their ability you ‘queue’… and having seen it firsthand it’s pretty impressive. 

For the most part, American’s are also very good at queuing.  However, we don’t seem to have mastered the ability to pass the time pleasantly quite yet, like our British counterparts.  Although most American’s seem to accept their fate and respect the unwritten ‘law’ of the line… however, we’re never happy about it and often times show our queuing distain openly. 

It usually starts with a loud sigh and quickly graduates to craned looks… you know what I’m talking about.  When you roll up on your tip toes, lift your chin really high in the air and look around franticly to advertize what you’re thinking: “Good Lord, does no one see us standing in this line?  Why isn’t anyone doing anything about this travesty!  If I crane my head high enough I KNOW I will see a solution unseen by all these other flat footed mopes.” 

You know what I’m talking about… and yes… I am guilty of this as well.

If a line is particularly long or slow…an American’s obsession with appearing put-out by the wait usually gives way to a certain amount of situational humor, especially if there are more than one ‘craners’ stuck in the same line.  When two such cramers lock eyes… there’s little the two can do except exchange a shrug and share in their misery together… which often times manifests into some verbal jokes at the expense of the poor folks trying to manage the situation.  Again… I have been guilty of this as well… however, the sanctity of waiting my turn is always respected.

And, when it comes to disembarking from an airplane… one of the most loathsome experiences a human being can ever face… quietly waiting your turn to disembark is simply part of the deal.  At least it is for me.  I believe the unwritten etiquette for disembarking an airplane states that you may not pass the people occupying a row in front of you unless you are invited AND, in turn, no one should pass your row without an invitation as well.  We are all in the same boat… and trust me… when you’ve been on a plane for 15 hours all you want to do is get off… but you need to be respectful of your fellow passengers.

So, you’ll understand my shock and complete pissed-off-ittude when landing in Istanbul, from Belgrade (an hour and a half flight that arrived on time) when about 20 people ffrom the back of the plane started pushing their way to the front and whenever they were met with any kind of resistance they claimed to have a tight connecting flight.

Personally, I am very sympathetic to small connection windows… and Lord knows I’ve had to race through Frankfurt airport multiple times with only an hour to make a connection… so I am totally sympathetic… however, in my circumstances, after being dealt multi-hour delays creating VERy small connection windows… I have NEVER pushed anyone aside demanding special treatment from an airline, security, or my fellow passengers.

Although the folks in question uttered words to garner sympathy and understanding… their body language and general attitude didn’t seem to compliment their story.  They simply behaved impatiently.  They never said ‘excuse me’… they never said ‘thank you’… they might as well said, “F-Off” as they literary  pushed people out of their way.

I for one was appalled at this blatant disregard to their fellow passengers.

However, two things happened shortly after this incident: the first was a case of Karma at its finest… and the second was justification that I should not feel sorry for quietly laughing at their bad Karma.

The Karma:  When it was finally my turn to exit the plane I discovered we were exiting to the tarmac, not directly into terminal.  You don’t really run into this much in the States, but I see it a LOT overseas (especially with international flights).  Basically, what happens is this: when you exit the plane, you go down a set of stairs to the tarmac where you board a bus that takes you to a special international arrivals port of the terminal.  The buses will normally wait until the entire plane disembarks (especially if it’s a small flight) and then take everyone to the terminal all at once.  In the case of my arrival in Istanbul… this is exactly what happened.  When I boarded the bus, I found the twenty people who had pushed past me… standing there… looking very foolish indeed.  And judging by the sullen looks on their face… they knew it too.  They were now forced to share a bus with all the people they jostled in order to be first ones off the plane.  Oh sweet Karma.

The Justification:  As a general practice, I don’t take pleasure in other people’s short comings… but when a person blatantly wrongs others in their attempt to achieve their personal goals… I do enjoy being around to see Karma smack them down… however… I also regret those feeling of pleasure as well.  I don’t know what their story is and it’s pretty crappy to take enjoyment fomr their misfortune.  However, in the departure terminal I saw them through the glass of a gate waiting around.  The departure gates waiting areas in Istanbul aren’t open to all like in the States.  In Istanbul the gates are sectioned off and you have to go through a special security check point (and have a board pass) to enter them… so when you see someone in a gate waiting area there is no questions as to what flight they are on.  So, when I saw pushes in their departure gate, out of curiosity, I checked out their flight information.  They were headed to Dubai… and based on the departure boards, the flight was scheduled to leave on time (no delays had been noted)… and based on the time of the scheduled departure it was safe to assume their claim of a tight connection was a complete and total fabrication.  Their flight was scheduled to leave three hours after we arrived in Istanbul.

At that moment, I was cleansed of any guilt I may have felt due to my enjoyment of seeming them stuck on the tarmac bus.