At the Nairobi airport I deplane at exactly 8:02AM. In Africa there aren’t many of the special transfer ramps on and off the plane that you take for granted in the US, just a set of stares from the ground up. I walk across the tarmac to the terminal and watch as my 8:00AM Precision Air flight to Tanzania taxis to the runway. It’s just my luck that for once, a flight leaves on the dot. I visit the transfer desk to find out when the next flight leaves. 10:35AM, not bad. It turns out that my original flight was late coming into Dakar because an Indian Airways flight popped all 8 of its tires on landing, not injuring anyone but blocking the runway for hours.

I make my way to the Nairobi version of the Prestige Lounge and am disappointed. Non-descript meat pies and burnt coffee serve as breakfast, and the furniture is only semi-comfortable, not the fat leather couches in Dakar. Worst of all, there’s only one toilet and I really have to go to the bathroom, but one guy after the next takes the throne. I decide to go to the public restroom instead. I walk in and a janitor is there. I walk past him to the corner stall and hear when I sit down I hear someone ask in English, “this one or that one?” Next thing I know, a bottle of water comes flying over the stall wall and hits me in the leg. Clearly startled, I yell out and shout, “What the hell?” There is no reply and I don’t hear anything else. I finish my business and when I emerge from the stall, the janitor is gone. Why would he have thrown a bottle of water at me, and was it the janitor or someone else? Was he in the middle of cleaning the stall and pissed off that I walked in? Maybe he just thought I was thirsty. I can’t figure it out, so I let it go, and head to my gate.