South Africa #1, 2008 Trip

We bounced out of bed at 5. Jock chauffeured at 6. Bus dropped us at O’Hare at 7:40. Skywest flew to Atlanta, in-flight service by Paul Gaylord with the accent on Gay. Our flight from Atlanta was, for airlines, on time. A 20’s native of Johannesburg sat beside me with scary stories of Black Mambas, Boomslangs, Puff Adders, and Johannesburg. He had been attacked in his own neighborhood while running at night. Most people have a wall with razor wire around the house and steel bars over windows, doors, and blocking their bedrooms from the rest of the house. The usual assortment of noisy kids made their barnyard noises, yelps, and whistles. A well-endowed Miss Backpacker revealed a tattoo across her back/butt originally in petite script, now in wide gothic. The last and most colorful family made their way to the rear of the plane shortly before take off. We later learned the father, herd of young children, and two completely black cloth covered wives lived in Senegal. The wives swayed back and forth as they glided down the aisle. A rectangle below the top provided a peephole although you could not see their eyes because of a thin cloth.
Sometime in the night it happened. There are places you don’t just “let ‘er rip” - weddings, the classroom (unless it really hurts and you’re standing next to the container of rotten egg gas), and packed airplanes flying at 35,000 feet with sealed doors and no parachutes. Lee and I have been assaulted before in 2001 by the Turbaned Torpedo flying Anal Air #2 between Shitcago, IL. and BombBowels, India. In 2002 the sweet little girl with digestive distress (pood her pants right behind us, and the “MOTHER” did nothing while the restroom across the aisle remained vacant.) That permanently damaged my olfactory sensors. And now, in 2008 whatever odor terrorist set this one off established a new standard/unattainable record. A million methane molecules meshed, mouldered, and mashed together shot out the chute from the black hole, slid along the floor like a green damp, putrid blanket, climbed the walls, cascaded over the chairs, voided the ventilation, and scent shock waves through the defenseless passengers. Women wept. Maimed men moaned. Flight attendants fled, and the poor unsuspecting children just kept making noise. Why do we subject ourselves to this cruel, unrepentant torture? After the gagging, coughing, wretching, and puking subsided an announcement blasted from the P.A. “Is there a doctor, nurse, medical student, veterinarian, or someone who watches E.R. on board? We are delivering - Oops - never mind - we delivered a baby in the back of the plane.” Turns out one of the wives was hiding more than her eyes. Our plane departed with 450 passengers and a stow away and landed with 451. Delta, to it’s credit, decided to only charge her ¼ fare which seemed fair, but then added a surcharge of $2000 for the extra pillow, blanket, and attendant time - hey wait a minute.
We landed in Dakar, Senegal at 4 am and “THE MAN,” two wives, unaided by anyone, and herd + one departed along with 20 other people. On board came the cleaning/contraband crew. While we stood in the aisles, they checked bags, pulled apart seats, and asked questions. Right after take off a flight attendant sprayed insecticide up and down the aisles. Twenty-eight hours after getting out of bed we landed in Johannesburg.
I started this last night but stopped when the debilitating leg cramps began. Right now we are watching the ostrich, springbok, and assorted other animals from the veranda. This afternoon we see Pretoria and tomorrow Victoria Falls.
Here are some possible names for the new baby: Dakara Delta, Senegaly Sally, Victorious Venus, Teresanisus Tentanisus, Bettaya Blackaya, Sarasha Starasha, or Jetmarka Joanarka. Do you have any better ones? More DonKey drivel is available at Amazon Books, Four Keys overseas.

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