The Kinshasa 5

We landed in Brussels after a brisk 7.5 hour flight. I quickly smelled the B.S. after my initial encounter with the ‘doctors’. After the five of us disembarked, the mood quickly lightened. A round of laughter came from the group as they revealed that they were in fact not doctors, but rather worked for the Department of State and REALLY wanted to get off the plane. I was only upset that I hadn’t thought of something like that before. As very experienced travelers (they had been all over the world setting up embassies) they decided I should stick with them, I happily agreed.

We ran through security, customs, and baggage, and on to the gate. We sat as Kevin, the project leader, haggled with the gate attendant to hold the plane. She begrudgingly agreed but said there was NO way our bags could make it. “Hell no!” Kevin bellowed. “I need my bags, my suits are in there!” the attendant apologized but said that was the best they could do. “I’ve got a meeting with the Ambassador, multi-million dollar deal; you think I can walk up in jeans in a t-shirt?” Kevin reached back and put his arm around me, “plus, he has critical medical supplies, PEOPLE ARE DYING!”

I assume most of what he said escaped her, as she repeated the same thing, like some sort of Belgian automaton. He looked at us, “Well, I guess we’re staying the night, any objections?”

Kevin, by trade, was an international negotiator, and was constantly looking to perfect his craft. Unfortunately, most of those who stood between him and his objective became little more than target practice. “The Kinshasa 5”, as we became to be known, was the title given to us by the lady behind the counter at the United stand in Belgium. This was, I believe, used to warn the other staff member in the airport, and not an honorary appointment. In what had to be a record, Kevin was behind the counter on their computer finding our per diem rates while the other three staff members neglected all other customers to assist us. Not bad.