Damn bag is still over 50 lbs. What can I remove? Do I take the tripod or not? Okay, so finally I decide to forgo the international electrical power stip. I will just have to make do with a couple of converters to power my myriad electronic devices. That resolved I weigh my backpack "carry-on" and it's 22.5 lbs, 10 kilos. Last time I traveled they were weighing carry-ons and limited them to 7 kilos. But this has all my camera gear. What's the point of making the trip if I have leave behind my camera gear? The hell with it, I decide. I'll just play dumb and hope it works. My Scottevest is pretty full, but if necessary I guess I can move some stuff in there, I hope.
Loading everything in the car I kiss the wife and dog good bye and kit the road.Three and a half hours later I am in NJ at Jill and Jeff's. I grab the Zoester and give her a hug but shortly there after Gramma Debbie whisks her away to a birthday party. Someplace cool with some astronomic theme I guess. Inside, Leo is absorbed in the TV and barely notices I have arrived, until I smash him with a pillow and tickle the hell out of him. Still his gaze is locked on the big screen. What concentration!
Jeff pulls his car up and we load my stuff in the trunk. Jill climbs into the back seat and we are off. Originally planned stop in Chinatown turns out to be unnecessary so we go directly to JFK, terminal 8. Thanks, guys! Damn, by bypassing Chinatown I forfeit the chance to get a "Make America Great Again" ball cap!! Jeff thought it would be a great way to test the Burmese monks to see if they follow the international news. Oh, well.
Qatar Airlines has not even opened their counters yet but the line is huge already. Thirty minutes later I am approaching the dreaded luggage scale. My checked bag passes, I know it would be close but no problems. The carry-on was another story. It's too heavy I'm told. My best pleading face seems to do the job when I tell the young man that this is my camera equipment and I don't want to be separated from it. "Are you traveling alone?", he asks. "Yes". Then take your bags and go to this line. He lets me go! I check in the big bag, but the counter agent asks if I have a visa for Myanmar. Well, no, but I have letter from their government saying I will be issued one on arrival. She takes it to her supervisor. Apparently it was OK and she issues me my boarding passes. "What country is Myanmar in?", she asks. "Well, it used to be called Burma", I say. "Oh, well be at gate 16 by 8 PM"
I'm hungry, so find a bar/grill and grab a Sam Adams and a Harry Salad (chopped shrimp, tomatoes, cukes, onions, and Kale with a red wine vinaigrette. Really good!
Finally it's time to board the Boeing 777-300. I have seat 11C which is just two rows behind business class. Well, like they say, "a miss is as good as a mile". Feeling the effects of the lager I am really just interested in a place to sack out for awhile. It's going to be a long flight - 12 hours and 15 minutes to Doha. Man, I don't now how those BUF drivers did it day after day during 'Nam. And they didn't have stew' bringing you drinks and dinner, just some sweaty gunner or nav I guess.
Well folks, gotta go find my seat. Will post more from Doha!
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