Haste Ye Back

With an app that turns my phone into my boarding card at the press of a button, I caught some envious glances throughout the day. Not having to faff about with that stupid wee bit of paper makes a bigger difference than you might expect. As does having a cool passport holder.

Yesterday, when I was choosing seat 29K online, I was mighty pleased with myself, what with it being a seat by the emergency exit with nothing in front of it. However, when the seat next to me was graced with what would be my travelling companion for the next five hours, I didn't feel so lucky. As well as being an elbow abuser (taking up a good 4 inches of my space on top of the armrest which also acted as my tray), he had a cough. A bad cough. One of those phlegmy-watch-your-guts-don't-come-out-your-mouth coughs. Every forty seconds. On top of that, he had shaky leg syndrome. Not the 'one leg going up and down' version, but the 'both knees going full pelt to and from each other repeatedly' version. The word I want to use to describe him is still not quite at the stage where it can be used in everyday articulation, unless you're James Naughtie.

Once in Cairo, I was met by my wasta guy who got me and my 15kg of highly taxable goods effortlessly through the airport. Once in Maadi, I was beeped at within one second of leaving the taxi, one of the many triggers I'm going to have to start seriously dealing with over the next few days.