The Longest Flight of Our Lives...

I can hardly believe it, but I am writing to you from Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

Thankfully we arrived safe and sound, but the trip was certainly not without incident. To name a few of the highlights (or lowlights, as the case may be)…

(1) Our cat, Harry, almost missed his flight due to some inane technicalities regarding his paperwork, resulting in Daddy almost having a heart attack;*

*(All in, between airline ticket and import permits and health certificates, etc., it cost us $1700 to bring Harry to Dubai. This, for a cat that cost us $7 to adopt. It occurred to me just now that we could have simply left him at home and purchased 242 new Harrys over here.)

(2) Because Harry almost missed his flight, Daddy almost missed our flight, resulting in Daddy almost having a heart attack;

(3) One of PopPop’s bags checked in at 80 pounds, meaning that Daddy had to do one of his famous rapid-fire weight redistributions whilst the agent reminded us that our plane was about to board, resulting in Daddy almost having a heart attack;

(4) Supernanny got stopped at security and was subjected to additional screening, which caused her to have a panic attack and nearly faint, which caused me to intervene and get into a mild yelling match with a bristly TSA agent over which one of us said the word “terrorist” first (it was him, I swear), resulting in Daddy almost having a heart attack;

(5) I noticed during the first leg of our flight (to Atlanta) that Sushi’s cough had turned into a cough with high fever, and I had already put all of our children’s Tylenol into our long-gone checked bags, resulting in my almost having a heart attack; and

(6) During our layover, Daddy realized that SOMEONE HAD MISTAKENLY WALKED OFF WITH OUR “IMPORTANT DOCUMENT” CARRY-ON BAG (it contained not only every single beloved photograph that had ever been displayed in our Florida house, but also our laptops, Visa documents, checkbooks and international drivers’ licenses), resulting in Daddy actually having, I believe, a mild heart attack or something damn close.* **

*[The ensuing scene would have been comical if it wasn’t so horrible: Daddy and PopPop raced down to baggage claim to maniacally frisk every deplaning passenger; I first harassed, then bribed with a $20 bill, the gate attendants to disclose everything they knew about this so-called “Hattimarie Davis” whose similar silver bag had now ended up in our unwilling possession; and sweet, innocent, unfazed Screamer entertained the passers-by with an unrivaled rendition of the “Look At Me, Guys!” dance.)

**[The story, incredibly, has a happy ending: minutes before our Dubai flight boarded, PopPop spotted our own silver bag being lifted into a car at curbside pickup; the bag was recovered despite protestations by the elderly possessor of our bag; celebratory chaos ensued.]

I would never concede that the 13.5 hour flight from Atlanta to Dubai was tolerable, because there were times when, in my Mommy opinion, it absolutely was not (such as when Screamer lived up to her name by traumatizing the entire flight with a ten minute/seemingly eternal full-body, full-volume, high-pitched meltdown; or when Sushi puked after a mere three minutes of turbulence), but the kids slept for a good chunk of it and somehow I managed to stifle the primal scream of exhaustion/stress/anxiety that I’d been holding in for the past several weeks. And there were even moments I kind of enjoyed, like exchanging incredulous glances across the aisle with PopPop as our animated in-flight maps showed that we were passing over places like Baghdad and Mosul. Landing in Dubai, and seeing the twinkling lights of the deceptively familiar skyline out my window, was like stepping into a dream. Could we really be here?

Daddy amazed all of us by having the figurative red carpet rolled out for us upon arrival: we were greeted by 3 formally attired porters who whisked us away to a private lounge so that they, not we!, could stand at the baggage carousel and collect all 30+ pieces of our luggage. Impossibly, we neither stood in any immigration lines to get our passports stamped nor even encountered a customs officer (come to think of it, how were we allowed out of that airport, having only interacted with the lounge attendants??); instead, we were ushered to waiting cars where we watched our luggage be loaded and took in our first glimpses of Dubai. Following our porters and bypassing all of the less-celebrated folk, I found myself thinking (for the first time of many), I could get used to this!

Ok, I wish I could write more, but it’s 6:15 am and Daddy and I have not gone to bed yet— the good(?) thing about a 9-hour time change is all the quality family time it affords you between the hours of midnight and 6 am; we just got the last of the kids to sleep as the sun is rising!!— so I should sign off for now. Stay tuned for our first impressions of the house... xo