When we first arrived in Doha, it was me and the three kids. We actually had a really good flight. There weren't too many difficulties....well, except for a bit of turbulence and the fact that in order for us to sit all together we had to sit in the back of the airplane near the bathrooms....which stunk horribly. One broke and had to be blocked. Ick. Sewage smell. I kept thinking it was Parker. Then, towards the end of the flight...I guess the smell lulled me into a sense of complacency, because I didn't realize for quite some time that Parker had taken his diaper off and dirtied his pants...with no diaper on. Once I realized the smell was actually coming from next to me and not behind me I hurried to the bathroom with him...I ended up shoving his poopy shorts in the itty bitty plane receptacle...because they weren't worth saving. We entered Doha as 4 people and only 3 pairs of pants. Clearly, with a child in just a shirt and diaper, I was not having an easy go of things. In addition, Parker was ready to run around. He was getting off a 16 hour flight. We had to stand in a long line for some time in order to get our visa's situated and enter the country...crazy Parker - not wanting to stand in said line...wanting rather to run around and zig zag underneath all of the ropes. So, as I struggled with this, a man decided he would just cut in front of us. NO SIR! I glared at him and pointed behind me and said "queu cutter!" disdainfully and wagged my finger. He got behind me, but was still further ahead in line then he was before. Then he kept trying to squeeze his way back in front of us. So I had to contend with an unruly 3 year old and a man of some indian-like descent trying to wedge his way in front of us. After a flight of not sleeping and not getting sufficient food - I was NOT a woman to mess with. I was extremely happy when one of the guards said "come with me" and pulled us out of the line and into a much shorter one. But crud! That meant the little cutting guy was that much closer to being towards the front....I almost didn't go just to spite him!
Queu cutters. That is what they call lines here - queus. He must have cut in front of at least 4 other families with small restless and tired children. A bad combo, I know.
I will say this...once we moved lines and got to the counter....our visa greeter was SO nice and efficient. We were there maybe 2 minutes and finished. Hallelujah! And then off to the races to grab our slew of luggage. Thank goodness for porters because I had 4 times more luggage than children.
1 comment:
Amber, your blog is hilarious! I'm having David read a few of your recent entries (nipple, 4 people and 3 pants). It's good to know that ours isn't the only 3-yr-old that zigzags under the ropes when you're trying to have your visa processed. Ethan was jumping over sleeping men when we arrived at the Muscat airport. He and Parker would have been friends for sure (partners in crime?).
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