Waiting, waiting, hesitating
Waiting, waiting, contemplating
Waiting, waiting, wasting time

Welcome to Africa, and African time. Where it takes an hour standing in the customs queue, because time be 5:10am, and skeleton staff to process all the people. But that’s okay, because we are not going anywhere (we got ya!), we just all be like, stand in the queue until it be our turn. Not going forward, not going back. Yeah, but I need the bathroom, people!

Yay, baggage collection time. But where is my luggage? Empty carousels everywhere, three with luggage, but none from Perth. Ask an ‘official’ and he be like – look at that one, if not there then look over there, otherwise go that side. No. None. Eventually I saw – a couple stray bags on an empty carousel. Hey that’s mine! A man called to me – those are the last from Perth. Huh? What did I miss? I came off the same flight and stood in the same queue, how come I’m the last to get my luggage? Everyone else been and left? Ah, I get it. I stood in the ‘foreign passport’ queue. Loser.