Flying Home

After checking our bags and checking in for our flight, we wandered around the Kyiv terminal looking for food. Our options were: Toast with Tomato, Toast with Dried Up Cheese and Tomato, Toast with Grey Meat and/or Tomato, Toast with Mayonnaise, Toast with Ketchup. We opted instead for two waters, “bezgaza” or “without gas/bubbles”. While waiting for KLM to call for boarding, we were approached by two women–one in her late 60’s-early 70s–the other in her 40s. We were suspicious, yet open to hearing their story. The young one asked us if were flying to Chicago as our final destination. The older one then blurted out in very practiced English–I Need Help! The younger one, who we later found out was not related to the older one, asked us if we could help shepherd “Jane” to the right connecting gate once we got to Amsterdam. Jane spoke almost no English, and, as we’ve documented thus far, our Ukrainian is primitive at best. Through clever hand gestures and pantomime, we all got to the gate on time and even got to the Ladies Room and the Snack shop! Before that, however, we had to sit through the Kyiv-Amsterdam flight next to Felix Unger, Monk the Detective, and any other obsessive-compulsive individuals we’ve ever known. For the sake of drama, let’s call him “Mr. Crazy.” Mr. Crazy kept talking to himself, using hand gestures to make a point to some invisible audience, and proceeded to wipe down his tray table at least 12 times during the 3 hour flight. When he wasn’t making his tray table free of germs and vermin, he was counting his credit cards and sorting them. For awhile, we thought he was going to ask us to play cards with him. We thought he wanted us to play Kings in the Corner: Mastercard, Visa, Discover, and American Express being the four kings. Nonetheless, we didn’t understand his language and didn’t much care to.

We got to Amsterdam, grabbed Jane, and took off for our gate. Our hopes for a fairly empty flight were soon dashed. The 747 was packed to the absolute gills with many (this time very friendly) flight attendants, babies, more babies, toddlers, punk rockers, college students, and a rapper who silently rapped her way through the entire flight right in front of us. Our seatmate was a lovely woman from Mongolia who worked for the U.N. and was currently stationed in Kazakstan. We told her about Joe’s upcoming trip to Kazakstan for his friend’s wedding, but we didn’t talk about the upcoming horse barbecue at the wedding feast because we couldn’t remember whether his friends were barbecuing the horse in Kazakstan or Kyrgystan, and we didn’t want to act stupid about our ignorance of food customs in central Asia. We did talk a little about food in Mongolia. Surprise! They eat Mongolian Beef and Mongolian Barbecue in Mongolia!

At any rate, we made it through 8 1/2 deadly, hot hours of cramped cabin. Lucy and Tarek picked us up at O’Hare, we chatted with them at their house and picked up our car and headed home. Pictures and Final Reflections coming later this week…or sometime!