Jet Lag

"Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place"

-TS Eliot "Ash Wednesday" (excerpt)

It is dark again, suggesting that perhaps I should sleep. Although I am not tired, I am fixated on the idea that tomorrow I will be. Or later today. I look at my trusty little analog alarm clock. It is battery powered and impervious to the black outs that have increased in frequency and duration during our absence. Even though I know it is correct, it is confounding. My head swims a little as I try to mentally roll the hands backwards (or is forward?) to determine the time in Texas where I was two (or is it three?) days ago - hoping to understand why I feel the way I do. If I were home, which is an increasingly abstract concept in itself, what would I be doing right now? Sleeping? Probably not. Am I hungry because my internal clock is calling out for dinner or breakfast? I am confused. Feelings of exhaustion and hyper alertness battle for control of my brain.

Piecing it together: at 3am the kids finally went to sleep. By 6am, two of the four bottles of wine from the duty free were empty and my eyes closed. At 9am Mina came into the room, seemingly refreshed and ready to start again. She doesn't like to miss out on anything.

It took three planes to carry us back to Cairo. The first was small and particularly miserable. With our heads craned and shoulders rubbing, we hurtled through the heavens from Texas to DC in a plane that looked and felt entirely too much like an Airstream trailer with wings to inspire confidence or provide comfort. I did not sleep on this plane.

The next plane was glorious, a Boeing 777 with a cathedral ceiling and large, comfy seats that have little TV's on the back. They have a menu of movies, including fairly new ones and many choices for kids. Luci watched Dumbo. I snuggled into a documentary about A Tribe Called Quest, bass and turbulence dancing together as I slipped in and out of semi sleep. Though it wasn't restful, my dreams were vivid. I was crossing the desert on a camel, part of a caravan of spice merchants. But I was actually a black kid from Queens with a gift for rhyming and a kick ass record collection. I woke up floating in a lake in central Texas. I could hear Jenn, laughing - giggling even. I couldn't see her in the darkness, but I knew she was out there. A foot in the ribs and I was jolted awake, still in the plane. Luci's legs were sticking out in the aisle as flight attendant was passing with a drink cart. Yes, please.

After a night of flying we had a ten hour layover in Frankfurt. I've never been outside of the airports in Germany. Although exhausted, we could not waste this opportunity. We quickly learned how to buy train tickets, checked Jenn's guitar into storage, bought some Euros, and headed into town. I love European cities. The kids chased pigeons and heckled gold painted human statues while Jenn and I feasted on sausages and potatoes, giant hot pretzels and large mugs of beer. We strolled through town. I was dreading the last flight... the one that would take me back to Cairo. It was on a Lufthansa plane. The flight attendants were German. The passengers were mostly Egyptians - boisterous and hungry after a day of Ramadan fasting. I sat back, bleary eyed, and watched the cultures clash. After repeated warnings that broke down into threats, the crew was able to seat the passengers. Dates and water were passed around to break the fast and we took off for Cairo.

I don't know what time the guys from the local market came by to drop off water. It was nighttime, late even by Egyptian standards. I had just fallen into something that seemed like sleep when they banged on the door. I couldn't find my glasses or the light switch, fumbling for cash in the darkness. Jenn always over tips the water guys. And so they stood there in my door way, clearly not willing to budge until I fished out enough change from my wallet to match her kindness. In a daze, I sat on the couch and stared at the computer through insomniac's eyes.

There was a moment, dozing on the couch, when I realized it was now or never. I walked into the bedroom, stepping lightly so as not to wake myself. My bed in the apartment in Cairo is wonderful. It might be the only comfortable thing in the whole city. Finally, there was no doubt that I was ready to crash. The instant my body hit the bed my eyes flew open.