The four exits nearest the Buffalo airport (two headed either direction) were blocked off by walls of orange cones. There were no detours in sight, only orange-vested men setting out additional cones with no apparent plans for roadwork, accompanied by numerous police cars... the po-po... the fuzz. As we created our own detour and approached the airport (at this point, roughly an hour before my flight to JFK was to take off), masses of people had gathered along the streets. Standing in the median, crowding the sidewalks, some atop roofs... most with umbrellas up and binoculars out, aimed at the airport. We had to know.
What are the odds of that, you ask? Of all days, how does Barack Obama opt to fly into Buffalo (really, Buffalo??) on the same day and at the same time that I must be there to fly out for the first leg of my journey to Accra? This is what happens when you travel with me. All sorts of crazy stuff. Also when travelling with me, you may find that the 'up' escalators are out of service, forcing the unfortunate traveler to haul the suitcase up a flight of stairs. Luckily, I packed relatively light (one suitcase for 2 months in Africa is not too shabby, no?) so the only difficult factor was my being bent over due to a.backpack, b.suitcase, and most of all c.uncontrollable laughter at the ridiculousness of my travel situation, as per the usual. It wouldn't be me if everything went as expected.
The woman at the Delta kiosk, of course, was rather thrown off by the fact that I was travelling to a country she'd never heard of, so after repeatedly asking where I was flying ("Accra, Ghana. ...Ghana. ...G-h-a-n-a. ...yes. ...West Africa. ...yes, it's in Africa."), she returned my passport and wished me safe travels with a lackluster expression of nonchalance. Just in time for me to get through security, make it to the gate, make a quick phone call to relate the absurd start to the trip (it had to be done.), and board.
To be fair, I didn't expect her to be familiar with Ghana. Probably shouldn't have been so blatantly obvious, though... she seemed a tad too confused.
Sit, JFK, food, sit, passport/visa check, more sitting, board, and 11 hours of sitting. Every seat in the flight was booked, so it was a bit of a madhouse - children and bags everywhere. Once settled in, though, the flight was a breeze. Dinner, snacks, and an in-flight movie made the flight a relatively pleasant experience, as did the kind but completely silent elderly Ghanaian woman sitting next to me (who was sure to poke me to get my attention and wave goodbye before deboarding). Best part of the flight, though, had to be waking up mid-nap, sneaking a look out the window, and being confronted with an amazing display of stars. Anyone who has seen me outside after dark is aware of this weakness; I have a tendency to walk with my eyes to the sky rather than in front of me. Much easier when already in the sky, though perhaps not as comfortable as when viewed from a comfortable patch of grass.
...aaaaand arrival. Akwaaba! The partially groaned reactions were widely audible as we all took our first real steps and stretches and walked straight into a wall of heat and humidity. Welcome to Ghana! Quick run through customs and long wait at baggage, through which another solo American girl and I stuck together, chatting about the States and what on earth brought us to Ghana for the summer. Through the nonsense, and Mr. Agyare was pretty much the first person I saw, there to welcome me with a smile and sympathy for my risk of melting. Quick drive to the house with some info re. Accra on the way, and it was time to settle in and adjust to the time change (which is still in the process).
That said, I've certainly talked enough for the moment... hasta luego!
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