“Everything has changed. The flying changed. The airports have changed.” – Eydie Gorme
Ordinarily there isn’t much to say about airports. If you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all. Sure, some are a bit eccentric (Detroit with the tube of elctro-lights), or just plain insane (Charles De Gaulle), but they’re just airports.
But Nigeria isn’t ordinary, so why expect their airport to be anything but an absolute experience?
The flight was good and that’s really as interesting as I can make it. We have a pod seat that lowers flat, they feed us a bunch of food that is certainly loaded with temazepam, and :poof: it’s breakfast time!
When the plane lands, the stewardesses..stewarderers…flight attendants start announcing that everyone needs to remain seated until the seat belt sign has been turned off. Then, they proceed to say this over and over again, ultimately resorting to calling out things like “Sir, yes you, please sit down.” And my personal favorite, “Sit down NOW! NOW! Fine. Whatever.” I cannot confirm this, but I believe there is a prize outside the door of the plane and whomever can push down the elderly and anyone else that is in front of them and reach the boarding doors first, well, victory is theirs!
So after battling your way to get off the plane (do NOT be the person that makes your row wait.), a couple turns gets you to immigration. Immigration lines in any country kinda suck (conjecture, I know. Give me a heads up if you’ve ever been through a country’s immigration process and walked away thinking: gosh, I wish I could do that again right now!). In Nigeria, however, the lines are utterly slow moving in a country that does not have an air-conditioned airport.
The Hubs and I were escorted by, um, a guy. I don’t know exactly what he does, but he tends to get us out of queue and has me sit down instead of going through customs. This same gentleman goes and wrestles up carts while The Hubs and I have the daunting task of trying to get to our luggage.
The thing about the airport is that it is PACKED. Packed as in, you cannot directly walk. You have to walk a few steps, shuffle a bit to the side, then continue on your path. Packed. Okay, in a country that doesn’t have as much of a personal bubble thing going on and somewhat lax policy on deodorant, getting to the luggage carousel involves basically picking up skinny women and placing them on the other side of you. If you’re swift, you can move into their spot. 90 minutes of waiting, and we have found our bags. Did I mention there was no air-conditioning?
Now imagine getting through the airport, customs, and everything else, to have every person in a 1/2 mile radius stop what they’re doing and stare at you.
Welcome to Nigeria!