Last In

Before surviving the Sahara I had the even harder challenge of surviving my first Senegalese summer, AKA the rainy season AKA the fucking hot and humid season, when it seems it’s always about to rain but really it only rains like six times. A couple of hours before my flight to Madrid, the rainy season decided to go out with a bang. It poured. The coordinator for my program was supposed to take me to the airport but was late due to the rain (and probably also due to a mild case Senegalitis) and showed up to my host family’s house less than two hours for the flight. He and I had some outstanding business, and I was pissed enough that I didn’t care about missing my flight (and I figured they would have to delay the flight due to the biblical rain) so we started beefing. We argued all the way to the airport in the rain, and in the end I had to run with my bags in the rain through puddles hoping my flight wouldn’t leave without me. Fortunately although my flight was in 55 minutes I made it, barely so, as they closed the flight the moment I stammered in, wet and winded. On the bright side, there was no waiting, I went right through security and directly onto the plane.