Get Me to Baghdad Quick!

Dubai International Airport. Terminal 2. I'm waiting with 100+ co-workers for the chartered aircraft that will take us into Baghdad. After a very weak screening checkpoint, the ticket counter, passport control, and yet another weak screening checkpoint, we are dispersed throughout the waiting area. Like many airports, there is a separate holding area that will open shortly before boarding time. I am sitting on the end of a bank of chairs. There is an aisle that separates me from a co-worker sitting on the end of the next bank of chairs. He is reading. I am listening to my iPod. Our attention is soon drawn to an Indian (or perhaps Sri Lankan) man who approaches the counter in front of our holding area. He has a boarding pass and small rolling suitcase in tow. Observing the airport staff members' hand gestures, it is evident they are telling the man no, that he missed the flight, and that he will have to take it up with someone else. He becomes furious. He is moving closer and closer to the counter, at one point standing practically behind the counter, so close to the employees that they become uncomfortable and again, more forcefully, they tell him to leave. He sets his suitcase down, steps back, pulls out his cell phone, and begins a very heated exchange over the phone. One of the airport staff members motions for the man to move his suitcase away from the counter. The man picks it up and moves it about 5 feet, then continues pacing during his phone conversation. The man sitting across the aisle from me glances over with one of those 'good grief' looks and we continue observing the angry man. He again approaches the counter, waving his ticket wildly about and throwing his hands up in the air. They finally convince the man that he is not boarding the aircraft and he'll have to speak to someone else. He picks up his suitcase, looks around the waiting area, and decides to set it down in the aisle between myself and my co-worker. And then he walks away! We watch him walk down the hall on his cell phone. He eventually disappears. We both glance down at the suitcase and at each other. "Are you as nervous as I am right now?" I ask. "I'm getting there," my co-worker responds. Approximately 5 minutes pass, and there's no sign of the man. My co-worker approaches the counter and tells them the man they were speaking to earlier left his suitcase unattended. Walking back, shrugging, he says, "They say he's coming right back for it." Hmmm... Another 15 minutes pass. Still no sign of the man. Now my co-worker and I are very nervous. I decide to approach the counter. I tell the uninterested man, "There was a gentleman here earlier who was very upset about missing his flight. He left his suitcase over here and walked away and we haven't seen him for some time now. Could you please track him down or have the bag removed?" He wiggles his head and says, "Madam, it is fine. He will come back." I said, "Sir, I can appreciate that you're busy with other things, but I'm very uncomfortable with this unattended suitcase near me. It is a major security issue and, all things considered, I would think you'd be at least slightly concerned. Should I track down security, or will you call them?" He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone. I assume he's calling security, thank him, and walk back to my seat. Still no sign of the man. No more than 2 minutes later, my group is called to enter the holding area. As I walk down the hall, I notice that the man is still missing and there's no sign of security either. At this point, my co-worker and I are absolutely stunned at the crass, careless behavior of the airport staff and the apparent lack of security elements. Once inside the holding area, we both rush to the boarding door and check our watches and tickets to see how much time is left. "Come on, come on," he mumbles. "Yeah," I say, understanding exactly what he means. "Just get me to Baghdad quick!"

Government Fraud, Waste, and Abuse

Imagine, if you will... You muddle through 3 security checkpoints at Dubai International Airport before finally reaching the aircraft. You're clean, along with all your fellow passengers. You embark upon a 15+ hour journey. You arrive in Atlanta. Before reaching the terminal, you must first clear passport control and customs. There are signs everywhere that indicate you are in a controlled area and cell phone use is prohibited. You retrieve your luggage from the carousel and transport it to another because you have a connecting flight. Passengers who have reached their final destination are ushered through a separate exit. You are still in a controlled area. There is no Cinnabon. No Starbucks. No Duty Free shopping. You have delivered your luggage and are ready to head to the gate to catch your next flight. Oh, but wait - what's this? A security checkpoint? You mean you have to remove your shoes again? Your coat? Remove your laptop from the carrying case? Show that your lipgloss and travel hand lotion are secured inside a zip-loc bag? How is it remotely possible that anything has changed since the last security checkpoint in Dubai? You have been in a secure area the whole time! Did you pick up items that resemble weapons during your secure 15+ hour flight? Or between the luggage carousel and the connecting luggage drop point? Did you buy a pack of cigarettes and a few lighters between passport control and the luggage carousel? No, of course not! You haven't even turned on your cell phone to call family because the sign says you're in a controlled area! How does any of this make sense? I have thought and thought and thought about this. And no, it doesn't make any sense. So here's my summary explanation in five words: Government Fraud, Waste, and Abuse. Yes, please, Uncle Sam, use more of my tax dollars to hire more TSA agents so that I can watch them drink coffee and chit-chat while I stand in line for 25 minutes for absolutely no good reason. I'm in the wrong line of work...

Pass the Double Stuf Oreos!

I have discovered that my internal means of dealing with feelings of insecurity are not internal at all. On the contrary, I seek out external satisfaction, most notably in the form of shopping. I bought diamond earrings yesterday - nothing fancy, just little studs. I also bought a designer handbag and matching wallet. I bought makeup today. Will I feel more beautiful? I feel semi-attractive after having my hair and nails done this morning. The hair, I surely cannot replicate tomorrow morning, fresh out of the shower. But it works for my ego today. The earrings? So small, no one will notice but me when I put them on each day. The handbag? Practical. (Right?) The makeup? Merely a facade to shade the sadness and insecurity that reigns beneath. Now someone pass the Double Stuf Oreos, please.

I'll Have What He's Smoking, Please

I was scanning through the news online this morning and happened upon an interesting article... 'S. African Bishop: Condoms Tainted With AIDS'.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20999747/

The article begins: "The head of the Catholic church in Mozambique said on Wednesday he believed some European-made condoms were deliberately tainted with the HIV/AIDS virus to kill African people. 'I know of two countries in Europe who are making condoms with (the) virus on purpose, they want to finish with African people as part of their program to colonize the continent,' Archbishop Francisco Chimoio told Reuters."

Is he delusional? A conspiracy theorist? Suffering from a brain injury? Or is he just smoking something that completely eliminates his ability to think rationally? I'll have what he's smoking, please...

Travel - Gripes & Grins

I'm at Dubai International Airport. I've made it through the initial luggage screening circus and I have my boarding pass. I'm entering the passport line - the shortest one, naturally. A Japanese man already standing in line throws his hand up at me and motions for 3 men behind me to join him in line. Excuse me? Mental reminder - I'm a woman in an Arab world. But wait, this guy's not Arab! As it turns out, they were all delayed once we got to the security checkpoint because they couldn't figure out how to remove their belts and shoes prior to walking through the security archway. Funny how that works out, huh?

Now I'm on the moving walkway, approaching the main terminal. I glide past an Arab family who decided to walk on steady ground instead. A man, his wife, their Filipino nanny, and 2 small children, both under 3 years of age. As I pass them, I can't help but notice the man looks remarkably cartoonish. He has larger than life features. His nose is huge. His black hair almost glistens (but not like it's greasy) and is styled as though he brushed out Shirley Temple ringlets that morning. His body is massive and hulking, draped in a beige thobe with a white wrap around his shoulders. A crocheted cap of sorts teeters atop his unusually large head of softened ringlets. His hands, too, are quite large. I am reminded of large breed puppies, the kind that are soft and cuddly, but have huge paws they haven't quite grown into yet. But this man has definitely grown into his hands. And he's not nearly as adorable as a large breed puppy! His wife, by comparison, is a waif. She is tiny and petite and cloaked in black from head to toe. Ironically, she is smaller than their Filipino nanny.

So our flight was late departing Dubai. Immediately, I calculated the time I would have to transit through passport control and customs before meeting my connecting flight in Atlanta. I'm already worried, but decide to watch some TV, enjoy dinner, and then pass out for 10+ hours. We experienced some delay during the flight, apparently, and arrived in Atlanta a full half hour late. Passport control and customs went as well as could be expected - great, in fact, considering I was about 5th in line and my bag was first off the conveyor! So instead of freaking out, I move to Plan B. I approach the rebooking desk and tell the nice middle-aged man wearing a smile, "There's absolutely no way I'm going to make my connecting flight. And even if I do, I have a hard time believing my luggage will make it with me. So, when's the next flight?" He laughed at me, fidgeted on his computer a bit, told me, "Sorry, no seats are available on the next flight," then fidgeted a bit more, checked my boarding pass again, then, "Oh, it turns out you're already booked for the next flight. I'll just change your luggage tags and issue you a new boarding pass." (Turns out, they called ahead for some of us with short connection times.) Could it really be this easy...? I feel so relieved, so relaxed. The alternative: I race 'til my little heart wants to jump out of my chest. I make my flight, just as the doors are about to close. On the other side, I am last at the baggage claim - with no luggage - and then fury ensues. Yeah, this was much easier. Thank you, Delta Airlines.

So I'm in the terminal now, in one of the few smoking rooms the Atlanta airport still makes available to addicts like me. And I have to lower my head so that my huge grin isn't visible. There are literally 5 people in the smoke-filled room (which is worse than a pool hall) with their laptops out, actively working! Several others are fiddling with a Blackberry - or some other fancy phone. I find this strangely amusing - that (a) they can't wait to get to the gate or lounge to work on their laptops because they are workaholics (and I thought I was bad); or (b) they are so addicted to nicotine that they intend to spend quite some time there and might as well work!

As exhausting and frustrating as traveling can be, I must admit I quite enjoy it. This trip proved very entertaining at times, just in observing people. I also taught myself a valuable lesson: Don't try to force things - remain calm and work around what you can't control. Now if only I could apply that lesson in other areas of my life... Then I'd surely be set - and would surely have nothing left to complain about!

Contractors Accused of Firing on Civilians and GIs

Interesting article. Once again, Blackwater is making a reputation for itself as an organization comprised of rogue thugs.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20231579/

When it comes to firing upon GIs (whether intentionally or carelessly), I agree that private security firms need to watch it and should be in touch with the military. Communication and coordination is key. If we're on the same team here, what's the problem? And why can't the military shoot back? If the security firms are putting our soldiers at risk, or potentially revealing their operational positions, then I think our soldiers should have the authority to fire right back at 'em - whether we're on the same team or not. Bottom line: don't mess with the soldiers!

When it comes to civilians, I guess my attitude might be considered fairly crass: war is hell. The media (and our spoonfed society) go nuts when civilians are injured and killed during firefights. But I would suggest that if some of those civilians had more common sense or placed more value on human life, they wouldn't be exposed in the first place. Stay inside! If I'm a civilian living in a war-torn village cram-packed with 'insurgents' (aka 'terrorists') and I hear bullets and bombs whizzing overhead, I'm sure as hell not wandering outside with my three half-clothed children to check out the scene. Instead, I'd be headed to the innnermost portion of my house to hunker down and hope Uncle Sam didn't send a smart bomb my way. This seems relatively simple to me.

Furthermore, I would suggest that many civilians are doing it on purpose. Think of the outrage when images of dead women and children hit the media! If you can make liberal, spoonfed Americans doubt their servicemembers' actions, that in itself is a small victory. Besides, these people believe in martyrdom. Why am I concerned? Pretty soon, they'll be dipping bread into 77 bottles' worth of extra virgin olive oil - or something like that...

'Manage' Defined

Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary defines 'manage' as follows:

MANAGE (verb)
Etymology: Italian maneggiare, from mano hand, from Latin manus.
(1) to handle or direct with a degree of skill as (a) to make and keep compliant; (b) to treat with care; (c) to exercise executive, administrative, and supervisory direction of
(2) to work upon or try to alter for a purpose
(3) to succeed in accomplishing
(4) to direct the professional career of

I thought I worked with and for managers. But I was clearly wrong.

I read recently about a 'management seminar' of sorts. I think they should all attend - our managers - and leave the worker bees to run the program for a while. We'll do fine. They need a few lessons.

Grrr... Another day in paradise (aka 'Iraq').