Air Sick

Flight 1 - The Good Flight

As a seasoned trans-continental traveler, the 28 – 38 hour trips have become a bit routine.

That is until this last journey.

Scott flew back to Uganda well ahead of me so I was once again on my own.  The first leg from Seattle to Doha, Qatar is around 15 hrs.  For the most part, all went smoothly.  It was my birthday and every flight attendant knew it.  Maybe because I have a gazillion miles on Qatar, but they all greeted me and made sure I had everything I needed. 

One of the first stewards came to confirm that it actually was my birthday.  She boldly asked, “How old are you?”  Of course, I told her.

So, when you don’t drink of sit in Business Class, the best they can do is ask you what your meal preferences are upfront so you get your choice.  They don’t serve you first.  They only make sure that you get the pasta or chicken before they run out. 

The empty seat next to me was a gift until the guy at the other end of the row decided to stretch out and share his feet with me.

Part way through the trip, between meal services, they offer a snack.  It’s a deep fried “hot pocket” which is rewarmed to a less than palatable gummy, rectangle of dough.  Usually, they are Italian or curry.  I always regret having one.  This time, the options were “bean curd or broccoli.”  “Excuse me?”  Did I hear that correctly?  He repeated the appetizing options and when I wisely said, “neither?” He kind of smirked and seemed to understand.  Someone in Qatar’s Culinary Excellence Department thought this was a good idea – but I do have to acknowledge that I’m only one of a handful of non-Indian passengers on this leg of my journey.

I’m so very grateful that this stomach-turning exchange happened on the front end of my trip.  A few hours later, this would have been, well, stomach turning. 

Toward the end of my “Birthday Flight” the entire Economy flight crew came to give me a final send off.  I had earned a “Business Class Dessert” complete with a personalized note and glass of Champagne.  They insisted on taking my photo with their I pad (not sure where that will show up) and on my phone.  It was extremely thoughtful.

Flight one down – now a 16-hour layover in Doha.  I splurged this time and got a hotel room.

A few hours into my rest, I woke with a jolt and felt like I’d been hit by a truck.  By the time my alarm went off and I needed to start moving toward my final 6-hour flight, I felt awful.  Body aches, no energy and my stomach was not happy.  I kept thinking, just a little bit longer. 

Wandering through the corridors of the airport I made it to the lower C gates. These are the stuffed bowels for the “flights going to places you’ve never heard of.”  Gate C83 – Entebbe.  There are few places to sit and you are screened to pre-board an hour before boarding so you then have the privilege of riding a shuttle bus to the other side of Doha to climb the stairs to your flight.

I was weak and shaky – Please Jesus – just get me on the plane!!!

Keeping with the gazillion mile club theme – I got a bulkhead seat.  Sadly – this one didn’t have the little pocket in front with the safety brochure and that nifty little bag you hope to never have to use!  Well, it did… it was just about 6 feet in front of your seat, next to the attendant jump seat and there was only ONE bag for three passengers. 

I lasered in on that bag – not sure how I’d get it mid-takeoff when the flight attendant would surely have my hide for moving.  But for the next 6 hours – I didn’t eat (much to the crew’s continued invitations to do so). I didn’t take advantage of any inflight entertainment options.  I didn’t really sleep.  I watched that bag.  Wishing away the stomach rumbles that continued to lay in wait. 

The normal entertainment from this seat is watching and counting the number of passengers who don’t know how to open the bathroom doors, fail to lock them once inside and then get walked in on.  This usually amuses me to no end – NOT TODAY. 

Each person who used the restroom on this flight was a potential reason I would have to lunge for that lone little bag next to the flight attendant.

It felt like the longest flight of my life.

The hours ticked by and I finally made it to Uganda.  I made it through the scrum at immigration, the free-for-all at baggage claim and out the front door to gaggle of helpful taxi drivers offering me freedom.  Fortunately, Abdul, our trusted airport driver found me quickly and we were off another hour to our apartment.  He likely suspected that I was just holding on – I don’t’ think I spoke a word the entire drive.

Miraculously, I made the entire trip without ever using the little bag.

For the past 6 days, I have not left our apartment.  I felt awful.  No COVID.  Just the flu.

Finally – day 7 – I feel like I may go outside.

The tide has turned.  Still not 100%. 

Would love your prayers.

I hope to never relive that flight.