No Man’s Land

I am home! Sort of…I’m actually in Miami, a no man’s land on this trip. I have lots of pictures to post, and stories that are hard to believe, but that will have to wait until I’m home and can hook up my camera to my newly-repaired laptop (yea!). I guess I’m exchanging a now-working laptop for sunglasses I broke in Haiti–smashed them in the gate of Charity’s house…oops.

Anyway, the airport ordeal is over. I can’t tell you what a relief it is when leaving Haiti to actually be seated on the airplane. Let me back up though…We left the house at 7:25am this morning, and I didn’t actually sit down in the gate area until 10:20am, and the airport is probably 5 miles from Charity’s house.

The line at the airport was a mile long, and I had three guys ask me if I would like to “check in real quickly!” Well, yes, I would, but not for what they were asking. If any one of them thinks I’m going to give my passport up to some stranger in the airport to avoid standing in line, think again. Even though the line was hot, sweaty, and stinky. I was standing with the pastor of Charity’s church though, which was a little reassuring.

Not quite as reassuring was the baggage “inspector.” He put his hand in my bag for about five seconds, sort of moved it around, and then asked me if I was married…ugh. Thankfully my Creole isn’t good enough to know what else he said. He did give my bag back though.

Here’s the part of the experience this time that I find hard to swallow–I had waited at the gate to be one of the last people on. It’s not like I could’ve pushed through the rushing crowd even if I had wanted to. So I’m standing in line, and a nice Haitian guy behind me is chatting with me–he lived in the states and was just being friendly–no marriage proposals. All the sudden everyone is pointing at me and saying “madam.” The gate agent wanted my attention. I look at her, and she asks for my boarding pass. I give it to her, and she tears it up! I was about to say something when she printed out a new one…for first class.

Slightly confused, I take it and get on the plane. The pastor and his wife have also been bumped into first class. I hear the flight attendants talking about how the flight is oversold. Here’s what gets me though–it’s only because I’m white. There was no other explanation–I had a seat assignment already, I was in the middle of the line with people all around me, and the gate agent picked me.

Haiti’s got some issues…

More stories soon!