Text 5153, 64 rader
Skriven 2010-12-22 07:21:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: to heaven on earth 913
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I woke at 5 feeling not so much like a sultan but managed to
get ready and drag my bag upstairs around 5:30 (the cab was
called for 5:45). I went up to Lilli's room, two more flights
up, and in the time it took to get up there and escort her
down, a minivan had come and the night manager had loaded
my bag into it. Only it wasn't the right conveyance - it was
headed for the other airport with other people, and I
snatched my bag out just in time.

Our cab, a regular one, came just a little late. We'd been
promised that our fare would be 30 ... on arrival the meter
read something like 30.45; he asked for 30; I gave him 35.

The airport was buzzing, and only one Turkish Airlines
checkin machine was working (just as we got to the front of
the line, an employee came by with the news that there was
another available machine at the other end of the terminal).
Furthermore, people were cutting in line - some brazenly,
some masterfully - for security. Chaos. Beware old imams who
pretend not to know anything. Especially when they have
canes. Especially when they have canes and large middle-
eastern looking escorts. This time we had no contretemps at
screening (the screener did throw some line-cutter out
of line, which provoked much approval from the crowd) and
got to the gate just around boarding time, only to see the
display flashing "30 minute delay." We had just secured
a couple places together in the lobby (there is no lounge I
can use in the domestic part of IST) when we heard them
calling boarding all rows. So much for 30 minute delays.

TK2010 IST KSR 0720 0845 321 22BC

A short flight that came with sweets and coffee; afterward
the line for the restroom was huge, so I decided to go look
for our van. Discovered there was no re-entry into the area,
I tried to get in the departures side, bladder complaining:
no luck. So I looked forward to the prospect of an hour plus
on a minibus with my eyeballs filling with yellow fluid.

And we waited quite a while for someone on the roster who
didn't show up; eventually we decided she probably had
missed the flight, and the driver drove us off after giving
instructions to one of his cohorts on what to do should the
person eventually get there.

Kayseri is an industrial town, and the landscape, here
merely bleak, turns to blasted but otherworldly as one
got closer to our destination.

The minibus system has evolved peculiarly, with vehicles
crisscrossing paths on apparently no particular schedule
with rendezvous probably much aided by modern cellular
technology. It's a mix and match situation for the
passengers, who get traded back and forth between buses
depending on their destination, but it seems to work,
except that this unfortunate Salvadoran and his wife were
caught in between when the next van didn't show up; they
were told to get into the car owned by the local tea joint,
and the proprietor promised to drive them wherever they were
supposed to go, improv at its best.

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