Sitting in my own little, hot, stinky, dry, and often times bug infested world, (Chad that is, not my room, though some times those particular adjectives may apply quite nicely) I forgot what it was like to work in the ‘Aviation Business’. What do I mean? A lot of things, but mainly the whole “HURRY UP!….and wait” side of aviation, that anyone who has ever worked in the industry can relate to.
I’m pulling out whatever hair I have left, down here in South Africa. I really shouldn’t be because I’m being treated quite well, but, honestly, I am very homesick. I miss someone beyond belief and I really just want to go home. I sound like a complete baby, I know, but, well….ummm…
For those of you who I haven’t informed yet, I left AirServ about 2 ½ weeks ago and took a job with a South African operator called Solenta Aviation. I have been contracted to fly the Beechcraft 1900D, again, up in lovely….(drum roll please!)….
ALGERIA!
Yes, Algeria. Or as my poetic brother says, ‘Aaaah fuck Jess, Algeria?’. Yes Nick, Algeria.
But for now I sit on my hands in South Africa waiting to ferry an airplane up the lengthy longitudinal axis of the Dark Continent any day now. Tomorrow we will finalize the flight planning but it looks like the trip will have me going from South Africa to Namibia, to Angola to Gabon, to maybe N’djamena-Chad, to Niger and then up over the Sahara to Hassi Messaoud, Algeria. We will take three days to do the trip, sleeping in Luanda, Angola and Agadez, Niger. And then…I get to go home to see a beautiful girl.
The problem is that the airplane I am supposed to fly all the way up there is in major surgery right now. I would rather, and I’m sure many other pilots would agree, fly an airplane to a maintenance facility so that needed work can be done, than to fly one fresh out of a (AFRICAN) maintenance facility over some of the most inhospitable territory on the face of the earth. I’d rather not make a sat phone call from the middle of the Angolan bush saying ‘hey guys…do you happen to see some left over parts hanging around the hangar anywhere, because it seems we were missing something!’
My other problem is my worry that Elizabeth will divorce me before even saying, “I do”. Every other day –and I never quite seem to learn- I phone her to tell her I’m coming home in two days. The following day finds me calling and saying ‘umm, honey…maybe 5 more…?’ Yet if anyone can understand the frivolities of working in Africa it would surely be her. Right honey?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Drinking with the wrong crowd
afternoon glow. Beautiful even when one is hungover.
It would seem that at some point in the past 12 months I lost my ‘drinking’ common sense along with my sense of self-preservation. This morning I awoke on a stranger’s carpet somewhere in the vicinity of Johannesburg. A blanket that smelled of mothballs was thrown over my crumpled body and my face was glued to the floor by solidified drool. I wanted nothing more than to be the obliging volunteer/victim of a mercy killing, yet no one offered. No one at all.
My first mistake was to accept an offer to go out ‘for a drink or two’ with Solenta Aviation’s Algeria Program manager. A.D. is his name and he appeared to be a great guy. He has helped me over the past few days secure what I need here in South Africa, e.g.: medical exams, accommodation, Visas, etc, so I assumed he had my best interests at heart when he offered to take me out.
My second mistake was actually drinking all of the shots that A.D. kept sliding my way. There is nothing quite like the taste of Jagermeister going down. There is also nothing quite like the taste of Jagermeister coming back up, again, and again, and again.
My third mistake was forgetting just how much South Africans can drink. It will be quite sometime before my liver, stomach and head all forgive me. I promised them all I would never drink again.
Somewhere in the night, which is very fuzzy to me, I apparently thought it would be a great idea to buy a scotch for one of my new friends. I asked the bartender what he recommended and was told Johnny Walker Blue Label. How much? Eh, 225 Rand. It’s obvious to me now that my division skills and conversion abilities when I drink are very much inferior. So, I happily bought this nice guy who had done nothing but buy me shot, after liver dissolving shot, a $35 dollar splash of whiskey on 4 ice cubes. I sure hope he enjoyed it.
In any case, the night out, and the incredibly insane inebriation that I hope to never repeat again (I did make that promise to my organs you know), did get my mind off of my recently experienced misery. Somewhere in the past 12 months not only did I lose my sense of self-preservation and good common sense, I also lost my ability to function happily when a certain girl is not nearby. It’s been almost 5 weeks since I’ve seen Elizabeth, and it is killing me inside. So now, my aching heart has new empathetic organ allies: my stomach, liver and head.
Wishing I was dead.
It would seem that at some point in the past 12 months I lost my ‘drinking’ common sense along with my sense of self-preservation. This morning I awoke on a stranger’s carpet somewhere in the vicinity of Johannesburg. A blanket that smelled of mothballs was thrown over my crumpled body and my face was glued to the floor by solidified drool. I wanted nothing more than to be the obliging volunteer/victim of a mercy killing, yet no one offered. No one at all.
My first mistake was to accept an offer to go out ‘for a drink or two’ with Solenta Aviation’s Algeria Program manager. A.D. is his name and he appeared to be a great guy. He has helped me over the past few days secure what I need here in South Africa, e.g.: medical exams, accommodation, Visas, etc, so I assumed he had my best interests at heart when he offered to take me out.
My second mistake was actually drinking all of the shots that A.D. kept sliding my way. There is nothing quite like the taste of Jagermeister going down. There is also nothing quite like the taste of Jagermeister coming back up, again, and again, and again.
My third mistake was forgetting just how much South Africans can drink. It will be quite sometime before my liver, stomach and head all forgive me. I promised them all I would never drink again.
Somewhere in the night, which is very fuzzy to me, I apparently thought it would be a great idea to buy a scotch for one of my new friends. I asked the bartender what he recommended and was told Johnny Walker Blue Label. How much? Eh, 225 Rand. It’s obvious to me now that my division skills and conversion abilities when I drink are very much inferior. So, I happily bought this nice guy who had done nothing but buy me shot, after liver dissolving shot, a $35 dollar splash of whiskey on 4 ice cubes. I sure hope he enjoyed it.
In any case, the night out, and the incredibly insane inebriation that I hope to never repeat again (I did make that promise to my organs you know), did get my mind off of my recently experienced misery. Somewhere in the past 12 months not only did I lose my sense of self-preservation and good common sense, I also lost my ability to function happily when a certain girl is not nearby. It’s been almost 5 weeks since I’ve seen Elizabeth, and it is killing me inside. So now, my aching heart has new empathetic organ allies: my stomach, liver and head.
Wishing I was dead.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Thoughts from the Dog
Last night Not Lloyd and I sat on the back porch listening to the silence that is such an unnatural event around here. Above and to the east, the nearly full moon lit up the night sky, but was being chased by a menacing black wall. Looming in the distance was such a ghastly, black apparition that it nearly gave me the chills watching as it devoured the moon in one swift and graceful movement. The blackness swirled above, black eddies thousands of feet above our heads foretold of the imminent sandstorm that quickly approached. It was a magical moment, one that I think I’ll remember for quite sometime. The stillness of the night, uninterrupted by any generators; the blackness that enshrouded us and that whose swirling eddies were rushing towards us from 3 directions like banshees, screeching silently.
I sat there thinking for a moment. I was reminiscing on all the good times I’ve had in Chad, and all the bad. I was trying to rethink all of the lessons this place has taught me and remember all of the amazing people I’ve met. It’s been one hell of an adventure, there’s no denying that. Yet it is time for me to move on…time for pastures anew.
“I’m going to miss your dumbass, Not Lloyd” I said quietly while stroking his ear and eyeing the storm that was now producing lighting.
He stared ahead, lightly panting. Then, pausing his panting for a brief second, so that I thought he might say something enlightening, he farted.
“I couldn’t have said it any better myself Not Lloyd.”
I sat there thinking for a moment. I was reminiscing on all the good times I’ve had in Chad, and all the bad. I was trying to rethink all of the lessons this place has taught me and remember all of the amazing people I’ve met. It’s been one hell of an adventure, there’s no denying that. Yet it is time for me to move on…time for pastures anew.
“I’m going to miss your dumbass, Not Lloyd” I said quietly while stroking his ear and eyeing the storm that was now producing lighting.
He stared ahead, lightly panting. Then, pausing his panting for a brief second, so that I thought he might say something enlightening, he farted.
“I couldn’t have said it any better myself Not Lloyd.”
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