Executive Lounge: Doha Airport

There was a strike scheduled to start at 6am this morning at the toll-booths on the highway between Mattindia and Kochi airport. Since my driver had to get back after dropping me at the airport, this meant we had to leave Mattindia at 3.00am. 

So I did not get much sleep.

I was nervous anyway - for the usual reasons: I had shopped too much, and even after leaving most of my clothes behind, for the guys to share (- and have altered!) I reckoned I had 35kg for the hold, plus a camera bag that was loaded with a couple of kilos of spices, some books and some solid brass temple bells. Then my permitted carry-on bag would weigh in at around 15kg instead of the 7kg allowance. All in all, they could have stung me for at least 10kg, up to possibly 15kg or more. . . at US$ 30.00 per kilo. 

Maybe I was lucky, picking the young girl who looked bored on the Business Class check-in, (I am flying Economy, of course.) Maybe Qatar Airways' policy is more lenient than Emirates, who stung me 3 years ago; but she didn't even comment.

Then the Station Manager walked over, and I asked him if the flight was full, and if there was any possibility of leg-room. "Aisle or window, Mr Harvey?" he asked, and I really couldn't believe my good fortune.

Doha International Airport

I knew the next part of the journey would be uncomfortable, because of the flight timings. If I had planned to take the shortest connection for Heathrow, then I would just about get the last train from Kings Cross to Lincoln, but my luggage might well follow me a day later; and if I missed it I wouldn't clear Heathrow before midnight. Because of this, I had decided to get the night flight from Doha, and take a hotel in the town for 12 hours. However, you may recall that my outgoing experience had been so awful that I had cancelled my hotel reservation for today, and decided to wing it with the people at Doha Airport.

At first, it seemed my luck was out and my charm was failing - even when I tried chatting in Swahili to the Kenyan on the desk. The best they could do was to offer me admission to the Executive Lounge for US$40, so I went off to get some lunch and think about it.

After falling asleep twice over my plate of Spring Rolls, I decided to splash out on the Executive Lounge, but once again my Guardian Angel, or Lucky Pixie, stepped in.

The girl on the desk was explaining that my forty dollars would allow me a maximum of 6 hours, even though I explained that my flight wasn't leaving till 01.50 next morning. Then a voice sounded out next to me. "I'd like this man to be my guest," said the Executive Club Platinum Card holder who was standing next to me. No, it wasn't a ghost from the past, just someone who thought that the airline's attitude was wrong.

He had an hour to kill before his flight to Rome, and we talked at length about business, health-care and psychology. Then the "coincidences" started to appear in the character of his son who had made a music video of himself on his iPhone - shades of my son-in-law the video director. It also turned out that the son had studied music at Berkeley - presumably under one of my son's good friends, Omar, who is a professor there.

Small world.

And on that subject, how about the voice that called out to me in a Kochi shopping mall last week:"Excuse me, sir. Are you Bob Harvey?" That was the voice of a Sales Manager from Cambodia who had been working in Kerala, in the office of AYV in Wayanad when I was there 3 years ago. 

He was back on holiday in India for 3 weeks, and thought he recognised me.

Very small world.