I re-entered Oman on Saturday morning with no problem (hakuna shida) except for moja or mbili (one or two).
Story: I had to wake up to go to the Dubai airport at 4am, because I had to be there at 5am for my 7am DXB–>MCT flight. Yani, I was épuisée (exhausted, although come to think of it I kind of like “epweezed”).
Observation: flights in most places of the world that I know of other than Western Europe and EWR (praise be upon it) do not actually board at the “Boarding Time” helpfully indicated on the boarding pass. They board at the time that the flight is advertised to be “taking off.” Which of course means you still must be at your relevant gate at “Boarding Time,” but you must also be mindful of its quotation marks.
Story: Unfortunately on Saturday morning my state of fatigue was such that I was only able to fulfill the former, and not the latter, of these two stipulations. At 6:20am (my “Boarding Time” was 6:35) I actually got on a bus from my (correct, mind you) gate leading out to the tarmac where an awaiting plane (which I assumed was mine) was evidently boarding (early? mash’allah!). I figured I had missed the destination announcement over the loudspeakers, because the stewardess tore my boarding pass without a second thought (and therein lay the problem, I would learn) and let me get on the bus leading to the plane. The lady must have been pretty epweezed herself, la arif/sijui/nemidanam.)
In a truly pure vein of HAMDULILLEH, I remarked that everyone else on the bus was either a) wearing shalwar kameez and long beard or b) military personnel (male, predominantly white). When the bus stopped at the plane in question, I asked the Emirati bus driver in Arabic (not sure why I preferred his professional opinion to that of the Marines'(?)…that’s what makes horse races, I guess) where the flight was headed. “Ooh, ila Qandahaar?”
Suffice it to say, we rode back to the terminal together in the (otherwise empty) bus, and there I patiently awaited “Real Boarding” for the Muscat flight, which ultimately rolled in around 7:05am. While I’m sure it’s a great place, my sleeveless black lace top and ballet flats maybe would not have been suitable for Kandahar. Yvette does not believe in going anywhere or doing anything that/where one could not theoretically do/go in ballet flats. So there you have it.