You know what makes a flight awesome?
Lots of legroom (thankyou, bulkhead seat), good food (which you’re gently woken for) and such acute sleep deprivation that you can sleep in any position.
Six hours *whizzed* by and now I’m blogging from the immigration queues in Abu Dhabi airport.
The airport is under renovation, signs and arrows funnel and ferry us through the system around scaffolding and temporary walls which appear to be recycled picket fences.
The whole place is drenched in cold, white light from the hundreds of ultra bright fluorescent tubes in steel alcoves throughout the ceiling.
The queue shuffles. The tang of body odour and expensive cologne heavy in the air, thick and peppery.
Odd how out here it’s not so offensive as it would be back home. In a culture where it’s not considered an issue to smell like, well, yourself, why go to lengths not to?
The lines on both sides move faster than mine.
Why does that always happen…?