APF Proposes Preventive Action Against Corruption (AllAfrica.com)
http://allafrica.com/stories/201002190807.html
The Healing (Washington Post)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/02/18/AR2010021803144.html
Egypt 3-1 Cameroon (The Guardian)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2010/jan/25/egypt-cameroon-africa-cup-of-nations
Water crisis persists in Cameroon's capital city (Radio Netherlands)
http://www.rnw.nl/africa/article/water-crisis-persists-cameroons-capital-city
Cameroon Regulates Trade of Endangered Animal Meat (Epoch Times)
http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/content/view/29944/
Cameroon police seize 700 parrots at airport (AFP)
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5iuXwoRFWZuQ9cLPQZ44Ol30TN_ZQ
Cameroon frees detained journalists (AFP)
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5gYieY7yqpnwZeB306GeMTYBgr9AA
2.21.2010
2.18.2010
Around the World in 28 Days (written February 9 2010)
Writing this entry I find myself back in Bogo and back in my normal routine, but the last few weeks outside of my village has been anything but routine. Earlier this January I embarked on what could easily be considered, excluding of course coming to Cameroon, as my most ambitious journey yet. Approximately one month ago I set out for New Zealand to attend my cousin’s wedding and spend some much needed time with family members. The time spent there was well worth the voyage, but to say that getting to NZ from Africa was tiresome would be a gross understatement. On paper (my e-ticket) the trip seemed intimidating. Yet I feel that travelling in Cameroon has done wonders for my patience and resolve. Nevertheless what often looks good on paper can be quite the opposite in reality. Allow me to elaborate:
Cameroon to New Zealand (In theory)
Day 1- One hour motorcycle ride from Bogo to Maroua. Upon arrival, go to the bus agency and buy a ticket for the first bus to Ngaoundere the next morning at 5:30AM. Spend the night at the PC Transit house.
Day 2- Roll out of bed at 5AM. On the way to the bus station, stop and eat some beans and beignets from one of the mamas on the street. Arrive at the bus station at 5:30 for the 8 hour trip to Ngaoundere. The bus arrives in Ngaoundere in mid-afternoon. I like to take my time going overland through Cameroon, so I head to the PC Transit house to get some street meat, cold beer and rest up for the night.
Day 3- In the morning go to the train station and confirm the train reservation. A first class ticket (17000 francs) gets you a chair. Some say the floor is actually more comfortable than sitting in the chair for 16 hours. I am in agreement with that, but I can’t bring myself to sleep on the floor. My preference is to pay 25000 francs for a bed in a four person couchette. When things go wrong on the overnight train to Yaounde, which is almost a certainty, I prefer to be horizontal. The train leaves Ngaoundere at 6PM each evening and is theoretically supposed to arrive in Yaounde around 10AM the next morning.
Day 4- Arriving in Yaounde one must push their way out of the station through the endless throng of baggage porters, taxi drivers, vendors, police, pickpockets, etc. Then buy a seat in a shared taxi for 200 francs to get to the neighborhood of the Peace Corps office/transit house. Do some laundry and take a hot shower in the transit house. Head down the street to ‘Le Car’ and buy a 6000 franc ticket on the afternoon bus to Douala. Leave Yaounde on what is actually a nice tour bus where everyone has their own seats, arriving in Douala in no less than 3 hours. Descending the bus in Douala try to deduce who is a real taxi driver while not being relieved of my possessions. Get to a hotel and call it a night.
Day 5- Yes, this is day 5 and we are not even out of Cameroon. Take a taxi or hotel bus to the airport. While waiting in the line at the ticket counter, I try to practice patience with the 500 people who approach asking to change money and then decide that they are my best friend in the entire world. Get through the customs and immigrations officials, who are not above asking for ‘gifts’ to streamline the process or to exempt you from some asinine regulation they probably came up with in their head five minutes ago. Board an Ethiopian Airlines flight bound for Malabo, Equatorial Guinea, and then Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The flight time adds up to about 6 hours. Arrive in Addis Ababa late in the evening and almost immediately board a 10 hour overnight flight to Bangkok, Thailand.
Day 6- Arrive in Bangkok sometime in the early afternoon. Spend the next 6 hours in the Bangkok airport waiting for the 12 hour flight to Auckland, New Zealand.
Day 7- Arrive in Auckland at around 2PM. Keep awake as long as possible to get in tune with local time. As soon as nightfall arrives, collapse in the nearest bed.
Cameroon to New Zealand (In practice)
Much to my surprise, Cameroon was not the problem on this trip. Let’s pick up at Day 5, shall we?
Day 5- Everything is going amazingly well (too well perhaps?). The Ethiopian Air flight arrives in Douala a bit late, but we still get out of there at a reasonable time. The 20 minute puddle jump to the island of Malabo is uneventful. The problem begins in Malabo when for whatever reason we sit on the tarmac and at the gate for an unusually long time. Arriving in Addis Ababa, what was supposed to be a comfy layover is now a rush to get to the connecting flight to Bangkok. Coming off the plane I ask the nearest person who looks official which way to the flight. I arrive at one end of the terminal where they are boarding a flight to Dubai. The Bangkok flight is on the other end of the terminal (not a large terminal, but seconds count at this point). I arrive at the correct gate to see the doors closed. The plane is still there but pulling onto the tarmac. I’m starting to feel sick to my stomach.
Day 6- It’s just past midnight and I find myself at the Ethiopian Airlines desk pleading for someone to help me reschedule my flight. The guy at the desk feels it necessary to tell me multiple times that this mix up was not the airline’s fault, so why should he be in a hurry to help me? I offer to go find the jackass who sent me to the Dubai flight and drag him down there to prove otherwise but at this point I’m being ignored. My experience of African travel kicks in at this point. Politeness has gone out the window. I go around the counter and head into the back of the office to talk to the big man. I think to myself that if I did this in America I would most likely find myself in a TSA holding cell very quickly. No one here looks interested in stopping me. After wrangling with the manager in the back I am booked on the next night’s flight to Bangkok. They are perplexed that I don’t want to pay $20 for an Ethiopian visa, go through immigration and get a hotel for the night. I hope to visit Ethiopia when my service in Cameroon is finished; I have no interest in seeing their country this time around. I’m wiped out at this point and about to crash on a chair in the terminal. A customs official approaches, hands me a blanket and tells me to go sleep in the airport mosque where there is soft carpet. Not how I planned to spend this evening, but I must say it’s an interesting development in the adventure. Plus the carpet was really cushy. Much more comfortable than my bed in Bogo, I must say.
Day 6 (Part 2)- I awake from a deep sleep around 6:30AM. That would mean that while the travelling faithful came in to pray at about 5:30AM there was some random American sprawled out in the corner. I tend to snore and talk in my sleep so I can only imagine it was an interesting morning prayer session for them. I see that another stranded traveler from Senegal is also just rising and we exchange a look of solidarity in our faux-pas.
It’s 7 in the morning and only 17 hours to go before the next flight to Bangkok. My Senegalese friend and I get our meal vouchers from the Ethiopian desk. He’s been stuck in the Addis airport for 3 days trying to get to Hong Kong. Meeting someone in the same situation can be comforting. I must be a more social creature than I thought, as not speaking to a friend or family member for almost 4 days during the ordeal between Cameroon and NZ was trying. Not to mention that this poor guy’s situation was far worse than mine and it put my travails into perspective. We run into another gentleman, a Congolese with an Austrian passport. He’s been in the airport for 5 days as neither Ethiopian Airlines nor Ethiopian immigration will allow him to leave. I decide not to pry any further. I just met this guy and I don’t need to know what Interpol watch list he’s been placed on. I spend the next 17 hours wandering the terminal and using up my meal vouchers. Boarding time arrives. I see that my Senegalese friend is also getting on his flight. Its good to know he doesn’t have to spend another night in this black hole of an airport. I’m not holding out hope for the Congolese guy though. Much to my delight, especially after all the problems last night, the desk agent put me in business class.” Would you like a warm towel, sir?” Better give me two, I spent the night in your airport and I’m a bit ripe. “How about some Champagne?” How ‘bout yeah! And don’t be shy, keep ‘em coming. “Anything else, sir?” I’m going to need two more blankets, a beer and more cheese and crackers to finish off my dinner. And my neighbor here who doesn’t speak English or Amrhaic looks cold. Go get her another blanket too. I know this flight attendant is not responsible for my problems, and she is being a good sport, but she works for Ethiopian Airlines and therefore represents all that is evil in my world at this moment.
Day 7- I arrive in Bangkok in the early afternoon. Ethiopian Airlines told me confidently that Thai Airways would take care of rescheduling my flight to New Zealand once I arrive here. Thai Airways quickly dispels that myth and informs me that, no, in fact it is Ethiopian and only Ethiopian that can right this wrong. The next flight to Auckland, NZ, does not leave until tomorrow but knowing all too well how they operate I get to work at once. It quickly becomes apparent that although Ethiopian has an office in the airport, it looks as though no one has staffed this office for a number of years. I go through four Thai Airways employees before I find an agent who understands that while I would love to deal with someone from Ethiopian (seeing as how competent they’ve been up to this point), it is a bit difficult when their presence in the Bangkok Airport consists of a dingy office locked up and devoid of any human presence. Finally I reach an Ethiopian agent over the phone. The flight to Auckland tomorrow is booked solid and thus my only consolation is being placed on the standby list. If I don’t get this flight I miss my cousin’s wedding. She doesn’t seem moved so I play the Peace Corps card. That at least gets me a hotel room and meal vouchers for the night. A dinner buffet never tasted so good and a hot shower was never more in need.
Day 8- The Auckland flight is not until this evening, but I’m back at the airport at 7AM. Ethiopian “has done all they can do” by placing me on standby. If I don’t make this flight tonight I don’t make the wedding. So now I find myself at the Thai Airways counter where my mission for the next 12 hours is to make the employee on duty as uncomfortable as possible. Offering to don the lovely purple Thai Airways uniform, serve drinks and do the pre-flight safety speech for the upcoming flight is a good way to start off. Checking my email in the cyber café later that day I come upon an interesting message from a family member in NZ. He just checked the flight this evening to Auckland and there are over 10 economy seats available. I go back to the Thai Airways counter and the urge to jump on the desk and yell, “Liar!” is almost too much to overcome. I don’t appreciate being held in limbo for hours on end. I decide against it and calmly approach, suggest they check the flight’s seating chart, find me an open seat on the aisle and print me a boarding pass. She seems shocked that I have this information available to me while she did not. I sense that I’m about to get on the flight so I hold my tongue. Boarding passes in hand, I ask her about 7 or 8 times whether or not this actually means I have a seat, each time adding another “really?” to the inquiry. If I had been working with this woman throughout the entire ordeal she may have understood why I was acting like a complete lunatic at this point. But she was just the last of about 40 people from Addis Ababa to Bangkok who had to hear the same sob story about the PC Volunteer on his way to a family wedding. I may have embellished the story a bit along the way, but I was getting screwed over here!
Boarding the flight that evening, calm descended over me for the first time since Day 5. And I must say that Thai Airways knows how to fly. I was in the nose bleed section of that flight to Auckland, somewhere around row 77, and it was infinitely nicer than Ethiopian business class. I’ll stop there to avoid from making this sound like a sales pitch for Thai Airways.
Day 9- Yet another early afternoon arrival, finally in Auckland, and I descend the plane to clear immigration. New Zealand customs is no joke, and their BioSecurity branch seems wholly focused on rooting out anything that may harm the country’s unique and fragile environment. Coming from Central Africa they pay me particularly close attention, right down to any dirt or dust that may be on my shoes and backpack (and there is plenty). Into the international arrivals lounge and I’m nearly tackled by two parents for whom I am almost inexplicably happy to see. It’s nice to be missed. The rest of the story would be an entirely different entry altogether, but I will say that despite the bumpy ride the short time down under was well worth it.
Epilogue
After reading this, some of you may be thinking that there is no way in hell I’ll ever fly Ethiopian again. Surprisingly I must say that you are wrong. It’s been a dream of mine for some time to visit Ethiopia and I fully intend to do so when my service in Cameroon is finished. The history of the country from ancient times to present day fascinates me, and I think once you get a taste of Africa there is always a need to see and experience as much of it as possible. Also, before my trip to New Zealand I signed up for Ethiopian Airlines frequent flyer program, ShebaMiles. I racked up something ridiculous like 13,000 miles on this last voyage. With a bank of miles like that I can now get into the Sheba Lounge in the Addis Ababa airport, which from the outside looked quite posh. They have no idea how intent I am in turning that lounge into my personal playground for the 2 or 3 hours prior to my next flight out of Addis. I also have some ideas for my next sojourn in Ethiopian Airlines business class:
-If Ethiopian immigration will allow it, ask to store my newly purchased goat in the overhead compartment.
-Asking for an English-Amhraic dictionary and insisting on speaking to the flight attendants in their native tongue.
-Requesting an inordinate amount of extra pillows and blankets to make a fort out of my seat.
-Bringing a copy of a children’s story along for the ride (‘Go Dog Go’ and ‘Goodnight Moon’ are personal favorites). Inform a flight attendant that I cannot possibly sleep unless someone reads it to me, twice (second time in Amhraic). At this point I think they’ll do just about anything to get me to go to sleep.
-In the morning before the descent into wherever I may be going, put on a track suit and pump ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on my iPod. Run the length of the plane through the aisles, shadow boxing with the drink carts.
Cameroon to New Zealand (In theory)
Day 1- One hour motorcycle ride from Bogo to Maroua. Upon arrival, go to the bus agency and buy a ticket for the first bus to Ngaoundere the next morning at 5:30AM. Spend the night at the PC Transit house.
Day 2- Roll out of bed at 5AM. On the way to the bus station, stop and eat some beans and beignets from one of the mamas on the street. Arrive at the bus station at 5:30 for the 8 hour trip to Ngaoundere. The bus arrives in Ngaoundere in mid-afternoon. I like to take my time going overland through Cameroon, so I head to the PC Transit house to get some street meat, cold beer and rest up for the night.
Day 3- In the morning go to the train station and confirm the train reservation. A first class ticket (17000 francs) gets you a chair. Some say the floor is actually more comfortable than sitting in the chair for 16 hours. I am in agreement with that, but I can’t bring myself to sleep on the floor. My preference is to pay 25000 francs for a bed in a four person couchette. When things go wrong on the overnight train to Yaounde, which is almost a certainty, I prefer to be horizontal. The train leaves Ngaoundere at 6PM each evening and is theoretically supposed to arrive in Yaounde around 10AM the next morning.
Day 4- Arriving in Yaounde one must push their way out of the station through the endless throng of baggage porters, taxi drivers, vendors, police, pickpockets, etc. Then buy a seat in a shared taxi for 200 francs to get to the neighborhood of the Peace Corps office/transit house. Do some laundry and take a hot shower in the transit house. Head down the street to ‘Le Car’ and buy a 6000 franc ticket on the afternoon bus to Douala. Leave Yaounde on what is actually a nice tour bus where everyone has their own seats, arriving in Douala in no less than 3 hours. Descending the bus in Douala try to deduce who is a real taxi driver while not being relieved of my possessions. Get to a hotel and call it a night.
Day 5- Yes, this is day 5 and we are not even out of Cameroon. Take a taxi or hotel bus to the airport. While waiting in the line at the ticket counter, I try to practice patience with the 500 people who approach asking to change money and then decide that they are my best friend in the entire world. Get through the customs and immigrations officials, who are not above asking for ‘gifts’ to streamline the process or to exempt you from some asinine regulation they probably came up with in their head five minutes ago. Board an Ethiopian Airlines flight bound for Malabo, Equatorial Guinea, and then Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The flight time adds up to about 6 hours. Arrive in Addis Ababa late in the evening and almost immediately board a 10 hour overnight flight to Bangkok, Thailand.
Day 6- Arrive in Bangkok sometime in the early afternoon. Spend the next 6 hours in the Bangkok airport waiting for the 12 hour flight to Auckland, New Zealand.
Day 7- Arrive in Auckland at around 2PM. Keep awake as long as possible to get in tune with local time. As soon as nightfall arrives, collapse in the nearest bed.
Cameroon to New Zealand (In practice)
Much to my surprise, Cameroon was not the problem on this trip. Let’s pick up at Day 5, shall we?
Day 5- Everything is going amazingly well (too well perhaps?). The Ethiopian Air flight arrives in Douala a bit late, but we still get out of there at a reasonable time. The 20 minute puddle jump to the island of Malabo is uneventful. The problem begins in Malabo when for whatever reason we sit on the tarmac and at the gate for an unusually long time. Arriving in Addis Ababa, what was supposed to be a comfy layover is now a rush to get to the connecting flight to Bangkok. Coming off the plane I ask the nearest person who looks official which way to the flight. I arrive at one end of the terminal where they are boarding a flight to Dubai. The Bangkok flight is on the other end of the terminal (not a large terminal, but seconds count at this point). I arrive at the correct gate to see the doors closed. The plane is still there but pulling onto the tarmac. I’m starting to feel sick to my stomach.
Day 6- It’s just past midnight and I find myself at the Ethiopian Airlines desk pleading for someone to help me reschedule my flight. The guy at the desk feels it necessary to tell me multiple times that this mix up was not the airline’s fault, so why should he be in a hurry to help me? I offer to go find the jackass who sent me to the Dubai flight and drag him down there to prove otherwise but at this point I’m being ignored. My experience of African travel kicks in at this point. Politeness has gone out the window. I go around the counter and head into the back of the office to talk to the big man. I think to myself that if I did this in America I would most likely find myself in a TSA holding cell very quickly. No one here looks interested in stopping me. After wrangling with the manager in the back I am booked on the next night’s flight to Bangkok. They are perplexed that I don’t want to pay $20 for an Ethiopian visa, go through immigration and get a hotel for the night. I hope to visit Ethiopia when my service in Cameroon is finished; I have no interest in seeing their country this time around. I’m wiped out at this point and about to crash on a chair in the terminal. A customs official approaches, hands me a blanket and tells me to go sleep in the airport mosque where there is soft carpet. Not how I planned to spend this evening, but I must say it’s an interesting development in the adventure. Plus the carpet was really cushy. Much more comfortable than my bed in Bogo, I must say.
Day 6 (Part 2)- I awake from a deep sleep around 6:30AM. That would mean that while the travelling faithful came in to pray at about 5:30AM there was some random American sprawled out in the corner. I tend to snore and talk in my sleep so I can only imagine it was an interesting morning prayer session for them. I see that another stranded traveler from Senegal is also just rising and we exchange a look of solidarity in our faux-pas.
It’s 7 in the morning and only 17 hours to go before the next flight to Bangkok. My Senegalese friend and I get our meal vouchers from the Ethiopian desk. He’s been stuck in the Addis airport for 3 days trying to get to Hong Kong. Meeting someone in the same situation can be comforting. I must be a more social creature than I thought, as not speaking to a friend or family member for almost 4 days during the ordeal between Cameroon and NZ was trying. Not to mention that this poor guy’s situation was far worse than mine and it put my travails into perspective. We run into another gentleman, a Congolese with an Austrian passport. He’s been in the airport for 5 days as neither Ethiopian Airlines nor Ethiopian immigration will allow him to leave. I decide not to pry any further. I just met this guy and I don’t need to know what Interpol watch list he’s been placed on. I spend the next 17 hours wandering the terminal and using up my meal vouchers. Boarding time arrives. I see that my Senegalese friend is also getting on his flight. Its good to know he doesn’t have to spend another night in this black hole of an airport. I’m not holding out hope for the Congolese guy though. Much to my delight, especially after all the problems last night, the desk agent put me in business class.” Would you like a warm towel, sir?” Better give me two, I spent the night in your airport and I’m a bit ripe. “How about some Champagne?” How ‘bout yeah! And don’t be shy, keep ‘em coming. “Anything else, sir?” I’m going to need two more blankets, a beer and more cheese and crackers to finish off my dinner. And my neighbor here who doesn’t speak English or Amrhaic looks cold. Go get her another blanket too. I know this flight attendant is not responsible for my problems, and she is being a good sport, but she works for Ethiopian Airlines and therefore represents all that is evil in my world at this moment.
Day 7- I arrive in Bangkok in the early afternoon. Ethiopian Airlines told me confidently that Thai Airways would take care of rescheduling my flight to New Zealand once I arrive here. Thai Airways quickly dispels that myth and informs me that, no, in fact it is Ethiopian and only Ethiopian that can right this wrong. The next flight to Auckland, NZ, does not leave until tomorrow but knowing all too well how they operate I get to work at once. It quickly becomes apparent that although Ethiopian has an office in the airport, it looks as though no one has staffed this office for a number of years. I go through four Thai Airways employees before I find an agent who understands that while I would love to deal with someone from Ethiopian (seeing as how competent they’ve been up to this point), it is a bit difficult when their presence in the Bangkok Airport consists of a dingy office locked up and devoid of any human presence. Finally I reach an Ethiopian agent over the phone. The flight to Auckland tomorrow is booked solid and thus my only consolation is being placed on the standby list. If I don’t get this flight I miss my cousin’s wedding. She doesn’t seem moved so I play the Peace Corps card. That at least gets me a hotel room and meal vouchers for the night. A dinner buffet never tasted so good and a hot shower was never more in need.
Day 8- The Auckland flight is not until this evening, but I’m back at the airport at 7AM. Ethiopian “has done all they can do” by placing me on standby. If I don’t make this flight tonight I don’t make the wedding. So now I find myself at the Thai Airways counter where my mission for the next 12 hours is to make the employee on duty as uncomfortable as possible. Offering to don the lovely purple Thai Airways uniform, serve drinks and do the pre-flight safety speech for the upcoming flight is a good way to start off. Checking my email in the cyber café later that day I come upon an interesting message from a family member in NZ. He just checked the flight this evening to Auckland and there are over 10 economy seats available. I go back to the Thai Airways counter and the urge to jump on the desk and yell, “Liar!” is almost too much to overcome. I don’t appreciate being held in limbo for hours on end. I decide against it and calmly approach, suggest they check the flight’s seating chart, find me an open seat on the aisle and print me a boarding pass. She seems shocked that I have this information available to me while she did not. I sense that I’m about to get on the flight so I hold my tongue. Boarding passes in hand, I ask her about 7 or 8 times whether or not this actually means I have a seat, each time adding another “really?” to the inquiry. If I had been working with this woman throughout the entire ordeal she may have understood why I was acting like a complete lunatic at this point. But she was just the last of about 40 people from Addis Ababa to Bangkok who had to hear the same sob story about the PC Volunteer on his way to a family wedding. I may have embellished the story a bit along the way, but I was getting screwed over here!
Boarding the flight that evening, calm descended over me for the first time since Day 5. And I must say that Thai Airways knows how to fly. I was in the nose bleed section of that flight to Auckland, somewhere around row 77, and it was infinitely nicer than Ethiopian business class. I’ll stop there to avoid from making this sound like a sales pitch for Thai Airways.
Day 9- Yet another early afternoon arrival, finally in Auckland, and I descend the plane to clear immigration. New Zealand customs is no joke, and their BioSecurity branch seems wholly focused on rooting out anything that may harm the country’s unique and fragile environment. Coming from Central Africa they pay me particularly close attention, right down to any dirt or dust that may be on my shoes and backpack (and there is plenty). Into the international arrivals lounge and I’m nearly tackled by two parents for whom I am almost inexplicably happy to see. It’s nice to be missed. The rest of the story would be an entirely different entry altogether, but I will say that despite the bumpy ride the short time down under was well worth it.
Epilogue
After reading this, some of you may be thinking that there is no way in hell I’ll ever fly Ethiopian again. Surprisingly I must say that you are wrong. It’s been a dream of mine for some time to visit Ethiopia and I fully intend to do so when my service in Cameroon is finished. The history of the country from ancient times to present day fascinates me, and I think once you get a taste of Africa there is always a need to see and experience as much of it as possible. Also, before my trip to New Zealand I signed up for Ethiopian Airlines frequent flyer program, ShebaMiles. I racked up something ridiculous like 13,000 miles on this last voyage. With a bank of miles like that I can now get into the Sheba Lounge in the Addis Ababa airport, which from the outside looked quite posh. They have no idea how intent I am in turning that lounge into my personal playground for the 2 or 3 hours prior to my next flight out of Addis. I also have some ideas for my next sojourn in Ethiopian Airlines business class:
-If Ethiopian immigration will allow it, ask to store my newly purchased goat in the overhead compartment.
-Asking for an English-Amhraic dictionary and insisting on speaking to the flight attendants in their native tongue.
-Requesting an inordinate amount of extra pillows and blankets to make a fort out of my seat.
-Bringing a copy of a children’s story along for the ride (‘Go Dog Go’ and ‘Goodnight Moon’ are personal favorites). Inform a flight attendant that I cannot possibly sleep unless someone reads it to me, twice (second time in Amhraic). At this point I think they’ll do just about anything to get me to go to sleep.
-In the morning before the descent into wherever I may be going, put on a track suit and pump ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on my iPod. Run the length of the plane through the aisles, shadow boxing with the drink carts.
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