Sunday, July 30 - Return Home

I began to wonder just how my trip back to the US was going to go when it started off on a startlingly unsettled note: As we were leaving the SIL center in Abidjan, my taxi driver said something to the effect of “You know the way to the airport, right?” When I told him that I had no idea how to get there, he then informed me that he had not been driving a taxi in Abidjan very long and he had never yet gone to the airport. That was an inauspicious beginning to what turned out to be an “eventful” trip. (I much prefer my trips, especially international ones, to be uneventful!)

The taxi driver returned to SIL and got directions from the guard, then we were off. I still got there in plenty of time, as I actually had to wait until the check-in counter for my flight opened up. All of the pre-boarding formalities took quite a while, though, so I was glad I had come to the airport early. As it was, I had only about 10 minutes to sit down before we were told that our flight was ready to board. Then we stood there for a while before we were actually processed through the gate. And once on the plane, we waited quite a while again. The flight, schedule for a 10:25 departure, finally took off an hour late.

Given the fact that I had only an hour layover scheduled in Lomé, where I was to board an Ethiopian Airlines flight to Newark in the US, that delay of an hour in our departure time from Abidjan had me wondering if I might miss my connection. I tried not to stress about it too much, reminding myself of Matthew 6:27 (Who of you by worrying can add an hour to his life?), recognizing that I could do nothing except figure out how to minimize my chances of missing the flight. With that perspective in mind, I asked one of the flight crew what I should do, and he recommended that I deplane with those going to Douala or Bangui, since everyone else was being asked to stay seated and allow these passengers to get off first.

I got off the plane as quickly as I could, followed directions given me by various airport staff who had apparently been alerted to the existence of passengers arriving late and bound for Newark, eventually had an already-printed-and-waiting boarding passed pressed into my palm, and was hustled on my way to the gate, where passengers were still straggling in. I was relieved that it was not God’s plan for me to stay in Togo, though I had resigned myself to accepting that outcome if for some reason He wanted me to do that.

The flight from Togo to Newark was about 10 and a half hours long, but we arrived right on schedule in spite of the fact that our departure had been delayed. I had two and a half hours scheduled between flights at Newark, which I thought would be ample time to make my connection. Boy, was I wrong!!

First of all, I needed to go through immigration. This step officially recorded my re-entry to the US and went very quickly once I got my turn. The problem was the fact that the line of those waiting to be processed was very, very long. (I did a calculated estimate of 7 x 75 yards, or 525 yards in length. I don’t know how many people that works out to be, but it is hundreds!) I didn’t time my stay in that line, but looking back, I estimate it to have been more than an hour.

The next step was to collect my checked bags so that I could go through customs, before rechecking them for the final leg of my journey. But when I got to the baggage claim, my two bags were nowhere to be seen. I was surprised to learn that, even after all the time I had spent waiting in the long line at immigration, not all of the bags from our flight had arrived yet. I watched and waited, the minutes ticking by and the departure time for my next flight growing steadily closer. When I finally got my bags, the time until my flight was very short.

I followed the signs to Customs, where there was a line(!). I had to wait once again. However, the wait was not overly long, and I was soon done with that formality. Next I had to find the place to recheck my bags. I had a little trouble with that, so stopped and inquired of someone who looked like he might know. Sure enough, he pointed to a sign I had not noticed, which pointed to the left.

I left my two bags in the care of the person assigned to forward them on to my final destination. He was very kind to indicate to me which terminal I needed to go to in order to catch my flight; he even told me exactly which gate it would leave from. That certainly saved me precious time later on.

From there, I had to go up a set of stairs (or was it down?) to the check-in area. That was where I needed to get a boarding pass for my final flight. As I looked toward the United Airlines ticket counter, however, my heart sank. There were at least five people in line already. I would not be able to get a boarding pass very quickly there. As I looked around for another solution, I spotted a little kiosk with two airport staff and no customers. Most importantly, it had the name “United” on it. I headed in that direction, and a few minutes later, I had my boarding pass.

I still had one more hurdle to clear before I could go to the gate where my plane was certainly boarding by that time—I needed to go through security. Again, there was a line, this one consisting of about 20 people ahead of me. Matthew 5:27 came to mind again, and instead of worrying, I sought ways to minimize the time it would take me to get through. I removed my shoes and my belt. I emptied my pockets, putting everything into my computer bag. I removed the computer and my ziplock bag of toiletries. By the time I reached the conveyor belt running through the x-ray machine, I had done everything possible to expedite my passage through security. Nevertheless, it still took time for me put my shoes and belt back on, my computer back in its bag, and so on.

It was by then very close to the scheduled departure time for my flight. I hoped that the fact that I had been issued a boarding pass would somehow increase my chances of them holding the plane for me, especially considering that I was jumping over the hurdles as quickly as I could. And so it was that, after running as far as my endurance would allow and then walking fast from there on, I arrived at the gate before the door was closed, and I was allowed to board the plane.

About two hours later, I was still in that same plane but on the ground in Charlotte. We had to wait a while to receive a gate assignment, and then we were finally allowed to disembark. I collected my bags—no long wait this time—and walked to the curb outside, where the JAARS Shuttle Service driver picked me up and drove me home. Thus, my adventure which began with a trip to the Abidjan airport at about 4:00 am on Sunday (Eastern time) ended with my arrival at my home in Waxhaw around 1:30 am on Monday. It’s not often that I’ve managed such a trip in less than 24 hours. (But then maybe that’s why my other trips have been less “eventful” than this one was.)

In any case, I am very glad to be back home.