As the jet engines powered down, on a debris scattered runway, I realized that SN Brussels had declared our arrival and in the process had parked my ass in the middle of field. Naturally, this feild is surrounded by empty UN aircraft and one man--who was appointed official magistrate of European luggage. It would be his job to unload a plane full of luggage in a half hour (for thirty cents). Clearly, if nothing less, Liberian baggage handling is efficient, I thought. (slight sarcasm)
Ding..."Ladies and gentleman, good evening, thank you for flying SN Brussels, welcome to Monrovia, Liberia, current local time is..." Wait a minute, I thought, who cares what the local time is. My main concern is are we going to get killed by insurgents at any moment, could you please brief me on the kids with guns, how is that working out! Sadly, I never received a situation report on local militia. Instead, a rather tall, unattractive, and forceful flight attendant instructed me that I needed to de-board the aircraft. Plainly, the flight attendant was eager to get the airplane headed back for Senegal.
Stephan (a student from Maryland) and I stepped down the platform and walked behind the aircraft. A sea of UN officials were there to greet incoming employees, workers, and comrades. I looked on, eager to find the University's entourage. To no avail. It was a sea of signs reading Martin, John, Bob, and Sam. No Mr. Vernon, Esq's to be seen.
I soon cleared customs and immigration. I found my bags, neatly stored in a room, filled with approximately 200 people--a room that was about as large as my refrigerator. So, naturally, after feeling completely molested, I walked out into the hot, humid night air--to be greeted by...Burt (name changed to protect true identity)--who apparently is the Director of International Partnership (whatever that is).
Burt met us at the end of the road leading away from the airport. I'm not sure how he concluded that this was the best junction--never-the-less, he insisted it was diplomatic parking. As I gazed at our golden chariot, I asked myself, does a diplomat drive a rusted, broken windshield, mirrorless SUV? I'm not sure. Please let me know.
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