The jolt of landing in Beirut

The plane touches down, in a split second passengers are standing, opening the head luggage cabins, an announcement is heard “passengers are asked to keep sitting in their seat with their seat belts buckled until the plane comes to a stop”. A number of passengers sit down, many keep on moving. Another announcement “Stay in you seats until the plane comes to a stop”. A number sit down, others remain standing. Another announcement “Stay seated!” Four remain standing while the plane is taxiing, and the announcement is not repeated, the head steward gave up! Five minutes later the plane comes to a standstill, and passengers rush to the door.

After a walk in the airport, we reach the pass control area. There is a long queue. I am tired but stand in line believing that a number of planes landed simultaneously. Half an hour standing in line I realize that our plane is the only one to have landed. Why the long queue? Each and every passenger takes three to four minutes of processing! Back hurting my turn comes and I reach a young man sitting behind a desk. “Good evening” I say. He looks at me with stern eyes, takes the passport and the landing card I had to fill. I stay standing for four minutes while he punches in one finger on a keyboard and fill some data on the landing card I handed him. All the while he is looking at me with the stern eyes of an investigator and suddenly I start feeling like a suspect in some unknown crime. And I realize my guilt. Landing in Beirut is a crime; everybody is guilty until proven innocent!

I pass the test and proceed to the baggage belt. No porters or wagons are available, so I pull my bag and proceed to the exit. Again a long line due to a bottle neck, where a civilian is standing asking each person from where he is coming, processes some to a customs checks while the rest is cleared to the exit door. I emerge from the exit door to a tide of people standing behind the arrival barriers while others are crowding just at the exit so I have to elbow my way to be able to reach the airport door. As soon as I pass the door I get hit by the smell of car pollution. I look around expecting to find the taxi I pre-ordered waiting. But where!? It is puzzling, there is no taxi waiting area, cars are double and sometimes quadruple parked. Police officers are standing there overlooking the Chaos.

Finally I manage to reach my destination to try and take a good night sleep in a city where noise pollution is like a cloud that engulfs the atmosphere in a hum that is constant.

The next morning, talking to family and friends, I realize suddenly that I am a nagger! I just complain about nothing. Everything in Beirut is perfect, it is true that there are some things that do not function perfectly well, but the Chaos has its charm.

I learned my lesson and was enlightened about my status of spoiled brat, expecting order, basic respect of my rights, and the pursuit of happiness!