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Flying Home – with Sister Golden Hair Actually, I almost didn’t leave Doha. I did some final packing in my apartment that last evening and went to bed around 10 p.m. My flight to America was leaving Doha at 8 a.m. the next morning, so I had called for a cab to pick me up at 5 a.m. I set my alarm for 3:30 a.m., then I set another alarm for 3:30 a.m. as a backup. And then – being a total worrywart about such things – I set the alarm on a third clock for 3:30 a.m. as an added precaution. With three alarms set, I went to bed assured that at least one of them would wake me up on time.
I got a little sleep, then I woke up and snoozed for a bit in my bed. After a long while I started thinking, "I wonder what time it is?” I lazily opened my eyes and glanced at the clock: 4:37 a.m. It took a few seconds to register.
“4:37! My taxi will be here in 23 minutes!!” Somehow all three alarm clocks had failed to go off (they were new clocks that I’d never used before. Or more likely, it was user error). I sprang out of bed, took the world’s quickest shower, gathered my stuff and said a very quick goodbye to my beloved and empty apartment, which had been my home for the past two years. I raced to the elevator and made it to the lobby at 4:58 with my heart pounding. The taxi driver was there waiting for me, so I threw my luggage into the trunk and we headed to Doha’s Hamad International Airport.
My flight left Doha shortly after sunrise and I settled back into my window seat. As I described earlier in my website, I have a strange flying tradition: each time I fly out of the Middle East bound for America, I put in my earbuds, turn on my MP3 player and play the 1970s hit by the group America called “Sister Golden Hair.”
I’ve flown from the Middle East back to the U.S. eight or nine times during the past decade and on each flight, and as soon as we’re airborne, I turn on my MP3 player and listen to that song. As I described before, It’s partly because of the group’s name (America) and partly because it reminds me of someone I knew back in high school (yes, she had golden hair – but she wasn't my sister). We all have funny traditions, I suppose, and that’s one of mine.
I had grown accustomed to the 24-hour flights between Doha and Portland by now and actually enjoyed them. Well, I enjoyed them as long as I had a window seat. On planes, as in life, I like to have my own little space. Wherever I am, I don’t need a big place, like flying in First Class or living in a big house, but I want it to be mine. Call it the "cubbyhole syndrome." I like window seats because no one can intrude on my privacy, and I also like looking out the window.
Yes, I’m one of those annoying folks who always has their window shade open on long flights while everyone else watches a movie or snoozes with their window shade closed. On any flight except over an ocean, I plaster my face to the window, staring in wonder at the scenery below as I think about when I last visited there, or the history of the area, or what people down there were doing, or if I’ll ever visit that place, or a million other things. As a geographer (and the extreme geographer, no less!) I’ve always been fascinated with looking at the earth.
Along with listening to "Sister Golden Hair" and staring out the window, I have another tradition every time I fly back to America: I always try to take a different route. On previous trips back to Portland I’ve changed planes in London, Manchester, Kuala Lumpur, Amsterdam, Madrid, and New York City. On this trip I was flying from Doha non-stop to Chicago, then on to Portland on another flight. The Doha-to-Chicago flight was 16 hours but I enjoyed it, ate lots of (pretty) good food, looked out the window quite a bit, and watched some good movies and a few bad ones.
As much as I loved Qatar, it was always nice to return to the U.S. and I enjoyed setting foot at O'Hare Airport. Back in America at last! I laid over in Chicago for a few hours and ate some good ol’ American food at the airport – a pepperoni pizza and a huge chocolate chip cookie – then boarded a plane to Portland. I landed in Portland around 8 p.m., which meant that I’d followed the sun all day, seeing it rise in Doha, following it across Europe and America, and now setting here in Portland. The setting sun was an appropriate metaphor I thought, because as I stepped off the plane I realized that my three-year adventure in Qatar was really over.
Between frantically waking up in Doha and then watching the sun set in Portland 28 hours later, it had literally been the longest day of my life. But after my long journey it was wonderful to be back in America because, as a young girl from Kansas once said, there’s no place like home.
My journey continues in my next website: www.ExtremeGeographer.com.
Above left: On my last evening in Doha, I visited City Center Mall one last time. Located only a few blocks from my apartment, I had spent a lot of time here over the past three years. I would miss it. Above right: Riding to the Doha airport at 5 a.m.
Above left: Back in the Northwest, bound for Portland. Above right: Arriving at the Portland airport after my 24-hour flight. Home at last.
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