The road there

UPDATED: NOW WITH PHOTOS, LET ME KNOW IF THERE ARE PROBLEMS.

We had been traveling for hours. Debate raged about exactly how long. There were times we seemed hopelessly lost as we tried to find our way. Pushing forward was really our only choice given the circumstances. My team was critically low on food and water. We had no choice. Ethics and morality didn't play into it, this was survival.

I would have to crash the business lounges at the airport.

I know what you are all thinking. How wrong this seems laid out on paper. Those lounges are for hard working star alliance elite club members or higher. They deserve a refuge from the over conditioned air, throngs of families dragging along screaming kids and economy sized bags of no name snack foods behind them, hard, uncomfortable bench seating originally designed for Guantanamo before they realised: guys seriously, this seems harsh. I didn't care. I went on a pillaging spree from one terminal to the next. Croissants and raisin bran in Vancouver, hummus and mini pickles in Montreal, grapefruit juice and cheeses in Brussels. I was bit like Robin Hood but never really got around to sharing that much. You might think sneaking into these business lounges would be met with layers of security. Not so, other than one or two burnt out desk staff there was very little keeping me from my objective. That didn't stop me from developing convoluted routines and techniques to gain entrance. My favourite was the `busy guy on a cell phone, too busy to bother, better just leave him to finish his important call` method. Combine this with the `oh hey I see my important college already seated with the business section and martini, I better wave and motion I am on my way`, and you have a winner. You can always feign ignorance if they bust you: `I was distracted by my very important phone call and meant to check in, but now I'm offended but your surly nature and I shall leave with a humph`. Of course by the fourth wave of blatant robbery consisting of mini baby bell cheeses and random foreign labeled cans of juice, you just start walking straight in, making eye contact, daring them to challenge your incursion.

Executive lounge at Brussels International. So this is how the other side lives...pricks.

The flights themselves went without a single hiccup. No delays, no cancellations, no lost luggage though they did take a good shot at destroying my check in bag. Apologies to my wife whose bag that is; life`s hard, but apparently even harder on luggage. I could go on to complain about the Scottish Albert Einstein lookalike with the vinegary BO whom I focused a continual stream of silent hate against until I realised the smell was my own seat from some previous smell ninja, but it seems sort of petty given our goals.

The last leg of our 20 hour flight aboard a 330 Airbus. Note Albert McEinstein in the foreground. Suspected stinky bastard.

After a quick stop off in Kigali, Rwanda's capital, our team, consisting of 3 other plastic surgeons, made it into Enttebe just before midnight. This of course being the famous airport were in 1976, an Israeli commando force clashed with revolutionary and Ugandan military when an Air France passenger jet was captured. The plane itself still rests at the airport. Unfortunately my late arrival made getting a photo impossible but I hope to get a better view on my return.

Our final destination. Scale of plane slightly smaller than show.

Arriving late at our billet, a Victorian mansion jerry rigged to accommodate small groups working at the hospital, the temperature was surprisingly mild as were the mosquitoes. Small tan coloured geckos darted along the ceilings as we relaxed with a drink on the porch. The lack of city lighting only revealed how polluted the sky was with a haze of smog and dust filtering the view of the stars.

These little guys seem (almost) immune to gravity. Cute until they start falling onto your head.

 
We attend a conference early tomorrow on reconstruction techniques. Ill be presenting as well as demonstrating surgical approaches in a cadaver lab that afternoon. Monday we start work in earnest beginning with assessing dozens, if not 100s of patients to decide who gets surgery and who will get nothing. For now, I'm heading to bed in an attempt to fool my brain into thinking it isn't mid afternoon.

I'll be in touch.