First Day in Liberia

Sup y'all?

Well, I made it. Denver to New York to Montreal to Amsterdam to Freetown to Monrovia. What a trip, it has affected me in the most profound ways and I truly feel like a changed person. I'm looking forward to coming home and sharing all of this profound knowledge with my peers.

But, before that, there's this. The trip here was exhausting. And as I write this I've been in the country for almost 19 hours.

I arrived last night at 9:15. I was a little worried because the person picking me up was supposed to be there at 9:55, when the flight was supposed to land. Luckily, this fear abated as I made my way into the terminal. There was one person checking passports in the "Visitors" line so that took about 15 minutes but the baggage claim was the real nightmare.

If I had to describe the baggage claim as a wrestling event I'd liken it most to Hell in a Cell. When I read the phrase, "jockey for position" I assume it's a more polite way of saying people were pushing others out of the way. To use this nicety would be a grave injustice because it would misinform those that come after me and wouldn't properly honor the survivors of what I'm calling, The Baggage Claim Massacre.

There was no jockeying, there were no niceties, there was only you, your bag and the exit and it was up to you to find the most efficient way to claim your prize and leave. If that meant suplexing someone's grandma, beating an old man with his own cane, or leaping off the turnstile to deliver a flying elbow to a child's face courtesy of Papa Smurph (my new wrestling name), it was all acceptable. There's no referee at the baggage claim, that's the new adage I live by now.

Also, kind of an interesting tidbit, there was a thermal camera at the baggage claim. I'm still not sure why.

Anyways after the Baggage Claim Massacre I walked outside to the mass of taxi drivers, successfully avoided them and found my ride. My drivers name was Mark, a quiet fellow. We rode into town in the traditional white land cruiser and arrived at Eagle's Landing. Unfortunately, while we parked outside the gate and blew the horn for several minutes no one came to let us in. But Mark called Anthony, his supervisor, and he got me a room at the local hotel. I didn't think of any Mark Anthony jokes until I just wrote that last sentence. I'm off my game, must be the jet lag.

But, now I sit in Eagle's Landing. It's nice, I have a little apartment with air conditioning, cable TV, and a little kitchenette. It's a little more snug than the floor plan would have you believe. I have water all day and electricity from 6pm-8am. This is my life now and I'm looking forward to work on Monday.