Escaping the Middle East

At the airport, I was standing in the immigration line with about 400 people in front of me and 30 minutes until departure. Before I had gotten to this point, I had arrived later than I wanted to and made my through the wrong terminal despite several destination checks by airport staff. Suddenly the minutes that seemed to pass so slowly for two years ticked away rapidly. A bunch of elitist Gulf Arabs kept cutting the line and I was sure that the universe was conspiring against my departure from the Middle East. To make matters even more bittersweet, my host country BFF called. "Take it easy. You can always stay with us!"

It was actually a contingency plan. If I couldn't escape today, what difference would next week make?  Having panic attacks at the airport vs spending time with BFF? Hmm. Eventually though, the opened a queue for slacker Dubai passengers and it turns out I wasn't the only slacker. Seriously, I was going to cry when my passport was handed back to me over the counter and I scrambled up the escalator.

I've been a volunteer in a [large American volunteer organization] in a [small kingdom in the Middle East] for the past two years. After a rollercoaster ride of a service and a final few hectic weeks, I'm feeling the unexpected pain of having said goodbye to a handful of people who have made my stay in [small kingdom in the Middle East] not only bearable but worth it. As with most things, they come to an end. Now I'm heading home.. kind of.

I have a rough sketch of an itinerary for the next two months that I hope to record here but I'll be honest. I think I'm going to look for a beach to inhabit until it's time for the final flight home. Next stop: Kuala Lumpur.