This guy walks off a plane and into Kuwait . . . could be the start of a great joke I bet but Im told that humor is not one of my talents. So I’m back in Kuwait for a few weeks, its 4AM on Tuesday and I can’t sleep. Honestly I’m thrilled to be here although it may not show on my face (social graces and projecting my inner feeling to others are yet more things crossed off my list of talents). The timing kinda sucks but then the timing is never right to leave your family for any period of time I guess.

The flight over was decent. Since my last trip out here United has started a non-stop to KWI from Washington DC. Used some miles to upgrade to business class and had a pretty decent 13 hour flight. The airport is the same, people seem the same, although this time immigration was different. Instead of just showing my ID and walking through with some Arabic numbers scribbled on the back of it I actually had to get a visa and stamp in my passport. This is a good thing I suppose because it seems to be mostly related to security at the places we’re working so I shouldn’t complain, but I will.

They have a ticket system like at the deli, push a button get a ticket, and wait for your number to be called. Push button, Im number 67, now serving, 6. They’ve got 8 people behind the counter, 4 of whom are actually working from what I can tell, 2 of them productively. Apparently the attitude of government employees is another of the similarities between Kuwait and US culture.

Yet another similarity is how locals know the system and are willing to exploit its weaknesses at the expense of others. You know how it is theres always someone who feels they don’t need to wait in line so they just storm right up to the counter and demand service, with very few exceptions they always get served mostly to avoid confrontation I think. And lest anyone thing Im speaking badly of arabs its not arabs I mean when I say locals, its anyone who knows the system here including a number of Americans I watched cut in line. The Americans had a methodology though, they would wait until someone didn’t show up for a number that was called then walk up just before they switched to the next pretending that they just realized it was their number up their. I watch two people with numbers over 90 go in front of me. For better or worse, probably out of fear of confrontation, I waited my turn. The wait wasn’t too bad, it took only slightly longer to get through immigration than it did for me to fly from Boston to Washington DC.

The ride to the villa quickly reminded me of the driving skills of the people of Kuwait. A warm welcome to the villa by Laveena, followed by friends and coworkers arriving shortly thereafter to watch the Indy 500 and I felt as if I’d never left.