Destination Guinea

I arrived at Charlotte International Airport on May 15. The plan was for me to fly from Charlotte to JFK where I would connect with Royal Air Morocco, my flight to Casablanca. In Casablanca I would wait 15 hours before finally being flown to Conakry. I believed it would be a very easy and interesting adventure to Guinea. It developed into the most stressful two days of my life.

I boarded on time and after an uneventful flight I landed in New York with almost an hour left to connect with my 8:20 pm trans- Atlantic flight. I was directed to Terminal Four and leisurely made my way across the airport. I arrived at Terminal Four and was surprised by the volume of both airlines and people located in one room. I was slightly unsettled to find that at least 150 airlines had check- in counters.

After walking around for 20 minutes I was in a full- fledged panic that my airline was not there. It was 7:50 pm when I was informed that my airline was on the opposite end of the airport in Terminal One.

I instantly became that guy you see in the airport running as if his life depended on his making his flight.

JFK International Airport I arrived in Terminal One to find the Royal Air Morocco check- in desks deserted. I found the check- in official who informed me that there was no way I could make my flight.

"The plane has left the airport and is in the air," he told me.

I persisted that was not possible because I had another four minutes before my flight was scheduled to depart. I demanded that something must be done to get me on that flight because "There is a human heart in my bag that must arrive in Casablanca tomorrow." None of which was true but able to draw a desired response. (Just like some of the "less- than- truthful" things I have said to get a date. )

After a phone call was placed I was told to follow him quickly I might be able to catch the flight. I had my ticket checked and headed through security. I slid my bag down the x- ray monster and ran through the security metal detector. I continued running until I approached my gate where I handed my boarding ticket to an agent as if it were an Olympic baton.

As I made my way through the maze that some refer to as the boarding gate, I was crushed to see that the door was being pulled shut right in front of me. I had finally made it, and they were going to lock me out. I began to shout as loud as I could "For God's sake don't close that door, I'm here, I'm here!"

767 flown by Royal Air Morocco Thankfully, the door was reopened, and I was escorted to my seat. The plane had been held for over 20 minutes. I was completely out of breath and sweating bullets, but I was on the plane and on the way to Africa…finally.

For questions or comments, please email JacobW@sc.rr.com Next week:

Casablanca

Diagram of how not to make a connecting flight. The view from my seat that almost wasn't. Coke written in Arabic and bottled in Algeria.