in nairobi

My Emirates Airlines visit today, the sole purpose for my 2 entire days spent twiddling my thumbs here in Nairobi, was so frustrating, it was hilarious. Nairobi is a real city, with skyscrapers, and after arriving by taxi I ascended to the 20th floor of View Park Towers to see an Emirates rep and move a flight. Somehow, in a masochistic twist, I decided to walk past all the efficient, beautiful women Emirates employees (they make them wear these gorgeous hats with swaths of white gauze - very chic), typing rapidly at their computers, and sit down across from a Kenyan man who was just sort of blinking at me.

He began to enter my surname into his computer at a speed that even 'hunt and peck' does not adequately describe. M-C-S-W-E-E ... he shyly looked up at me and proffered up my passport for me to look at.

'Oh ... is a mistake? I thought it was supposed to be a T.'
'What?'
'Are you sure ... this should not be a T? They make a mistake?'
'Who made a mistake? What?'

I looked at my name.

'No, that's correct.'
'Oh. ... You see, I thought it should be a T.'

MCSWEETEY?

This was a bungled flirtation attempt so terrible, I started cracking up right there. He also chuckled, probably thinking he'd done a great job.

He then proceeded to take an HOUR to change the date of my flight, turning frequently to the beautiful Emirates lady next to him for help. He wrote confirmation codes on various scraps of paper, often used an ancient calculator to add my date-change fees (at least ten times), blinked at the screen, and typed about 2 characters per minute. At forty-five minutes I was ready to tear my hair out.

'Should we get someone to help us?' I asked him, trying not to be rude, and trying not to scream.
'No no, I am just finishing. Juuuust finishing.'

So there it is. I had to tell someone. I waited an hour for Emirates to change my flight. I told my Taxi driver. 'Maybe he is Tanzanian,' he said. 'Tanzanians are slow.'