Oman Part 1

Well I feel like I have been neglecting my fans.

It has been far too long since my last entry into the world of blogging that I am not sure if I remember how to do this. Well here it goes.

I am going back a few months now to my trip to Oman to meet up with a friend from back in Calgary while Little J stayed behind in order to pay for my trip…thanks dear. The trip was for scuba diving off the coast of Oman east of the UAE. This area has some of the best diving in and around the GCC and likely second to that of the Red Sea. Needless to say, I was very excited as this was my first ever “Dive Trip”.

The story starts the day/night before the trip. I had been getting ready all day while Little J was at work. I had my backpack full of clothes and my dive bag packed and ready to go. This was perfect, only one checked bag with dive gear and some clothes. Once this was done it was time to get ready to head off to a birthday party for two of our newfound friends in Doha.

It was a surprise party that we had to be on time for. As Little J headed off to a work event (she would be joining us later at the party) I called for my taxi…I called again for my taxi…I called yet again for my taxi and finally I received a call from the driver himself. Apparently the guards at our compound were not letting him in for some reason unknown to me. That was just the beginning of what would be a laundry list of events leading up to the flight.

Once at the party time and drinks seemed to be flowing as fast as a white water river and before I knew it, it was 1:00am and I had to be at the airport at 5:00am for my flight. Did I mention that I had a few too many drinks. So as luck would have it, the only reason I woke from my intoxicated slumber was the ringing of my cell phone, “Hello sir, I am outside your home to take you to the airport.” Oh (insert expletive here)! So I managed to pull myself together and make it down to the front door and in the car. I am very certain I smelled as though I had bathed in a keg of beer, but I am on the road.

Trying not to remind myself of what I ate the night before, we made it to the airport. I get checked it, my bags are gone and I am making my way through security with my new E-Gate card. This is supposed to make things easier, HA! As try to get through the gate with no luck a very kind Local helps me out and puts me to the front of the line in order to pass through security. Guess what, I need an “Exit Permit”. This doesn’t make sense as I have never had this problem before leaving the country and other spouses that have my type of visa don’t have this problem. So I calmly ask what I have to do and all I get in response is, “no leave, need exit permit.” Logical communication was not going to work, so I did what every English speaking person does when they are in a foreign country, talk slower and LOUDER to see if they understand then. It didn’t work.

I called Little J, who did not arrive home until well after me because I was being responsible. I asked her to get to the airport as soon as possible because I am not allowed to leave the country. Meanwhile my plane is starting to board and I have not made it through security yet. Little J arrived and we were getting a little excited and probably could have, no should have been escorted out of the airport terminal for yelling at everyone in what looked like an authoritative position. Maybe it wasn’t our best moment in Doha.

Luckily there was a co-worker of Little J’s was in the airport and he helped us out tremendously. He came with us to get the illusive Exit Permit. So we roll up to this building and there is no one there and immediately we are freaking out wondering if we are in the right place. Sure enough there is a Local behind a ticket window. We fill out some paper work, Little J shows her Visa and we pay 10QR (less than $3 CAD) for my ass to leave the country. This is just another example of useless steps in this place, but we have to comply.

So now I have a total of 10mins to get to my plane before it takes off. I can’t get a ride back as there is no place to turn around to get to the terminal. I start running in sandals and with my backpack on across the numerous parking lots in the already 30C heat. Yeah it was loads of fun. I bust through the doors get to the front of the line and now I have to get the terminal manager to give me permission to pick up my boarding pass so I can get through security. Time is running out and I get the green light. Now to try and get past security to use my now working E-Gate Card. It was like I was cutting through the middle with my head down, stopped dead in my tracks. Once again, a roadblock that thinks they have more power than they really do. I side step that one and bang I am in the clear. I get to my gate and there is not a soul to be seen in the holding pen. I am late, but wait I can catch the bus to the airplane with the load of migrant workers (you see the airlines wait to see how many empty seats they have once the plane has boarded and then fill them with workers that need to do a Visa run). I catch the bus, make it to the plane, and now I am home free and on my way to Muscat, Oman to make some bubbles.