What to say about my guest today? I’m so honored to have her here I might be at a loss. Tarja of The Flying Chalupa weaves words so expertly I read her posts once through tears of laughter and another wondering how did she just do that. The summer memory she chose to share today will convince you, as it has me, that she should be churning out best-selling novels as soon as she finishes her next blog post. I can’t thank Tarja enough for sharing her talent here.
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The Dhahran Airport
There was only one way in and one way out.
(Well, that’s not entirely true. You could take a camel. And I suppose you could take a car as my parents once did, driving their brand new blue Peugeot – The Big Blue Moose – all the way from Paris.)
But if you’re not Lawrence of Arabia or my parents, the best way to get in and out of Dhahran, Saudi Arabia was through the Dhahran Airport. And if it was summer, then let’s emphasize the OUT OF part (not that 120 degree heat wasn’t fun).
Most people have memories of Memorial Day launching summer, but for the first fifteen years of my life, the Dhahran Airport launched summer and I loved that rectangular shitbox of concrete and florescent lighting unconditionally. I loved that one dirty sandwich shop, I loved the stale smell of sweat and cigarettes, but mainly I loved the electronic chimes that blasted over the loudspeaker whenever an announcement was made in Arabic: bong-bong-bong-BONG! There we were like Charlie Brown, all the expats listening enthusiastically and uncomprehendingly to the teacher – MWAH-MWAH-MWAH-MWAH.
Yes, I loved it all.
Wait. I take that back. I feel less than neutral about the women’s bathroom with the three stall-less holes in the floor. That shit will scare the shit out of a kid. Literally.
All over America, kids were tooling around town, blasting Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out, while I ran laps around the Dhahran Airport, probably singing “Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress” by the Hollies. Because they had actually performed a concert in Dhahran. And because my dad played that song repeatedly on this new fangled thing called a Compact Disc Player.
The best and most beautiful thing about the Dhahran Airport was that we were all there together: the expats from the oil company, the Saudis living in Al Khobar, the Sri Lankan laborers, all stations and classes, everybody. It was a true melting pot, not unlike the Newark Airport but without pork products or the America! Store, and invariably, I would see half my classmates there.
The kids owned the Dhahran Airport. We were a large and dangerous pack of wild dogs hopped up on exhaustion and adrenaline and the promise of a Coke Cola once on board (Saudi Arabia was the Land of Pepsi and if the Dhahran Airport was Step One To Summer Vacation, then Coke Cola was Step Two). The high ceilings, which you couldn’t see because of the cigarette smoke, echoed with our screams and laughter and I’m pretty sure the airport clock consistently read Half-Past-Delirious.
The one flight out was always late at night and by the time we boarded Air France or Lufthansa, we were all as dazed and confused as Matthew McConaughey in that same summer movie. My parents would make us comfy beds on the floor of the plane (air safety was called “hold on to the seat legs, honey”) and eventually we would close our bleary, burning eyes.
As the lights of the Dhahran Airport receded in the haze of the desert dust, Mom and Dad would order their scotch on the rocks, knocking one back in farewell to the strict Saudi rules against alcohol. Everyone would light their cigarettes and breathe a cancerous sigh of relief and elation.
I’m told there was always turbulence over the mountains of Lebanon, but by then you were only four hours to Europe.
Summer had officially begun.
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Just in case you are not already stalking following Tarja as I am, make sure to visit her here and follow her here and here. Because, truly, you can’t miss another post.
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I'm Jessica, 30-something mom to five, four in my arms and one in my heart.
Jessica, thank you so very much for having me – and for giving me the opportunity to revisit this bit of my past! I had such fun doing it.
Big hugs,
Chalupa
So glad to have you and all of your talent.
Jessica recently posted..Flying through summer
See, I knew it would have been awesome to grow up in Saudi Arabia! And my parents thought I was crazy…
Megan (Best of Fates) recently posted..Dear Judge Dredd, Or Twelve Sexy, Angry Men
Twitter: bestoffates
You know what, Megan, it was kind of awesome, you are totally right.
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
Oh this sounds so much better than the corn silk we used to try to smoke in elementary school just to pass the Summer days. I do believe that Indiana was a more dangerous and boring place. Love this so much!
tracy@sellabitmum recently posted..Don’t Do This
Twitter: sellabitmum
Smoking corn silk in elementary school? WOW. And here I thought corn was just good for ethanol!
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
Oh, Tarja,
I love everything about this post. And the picture of you. And your sister’s bangs in that picture.
(They look just. like. mine. at that age.)
What a fascinating, original life you have led.
And I can say this as the woman who lives 15 minutes from where she grew up.
Yeah.
When I need excitement, I too might knock back a scotch.
Or at least cut my own bangs with dull scissors…
I know. Living on the edge.
julie gardner recently posted..Today call me chaotic…
My sister’s bangs are AMAZING, aren’t they, Julie? And seriously, when you grow up in one of the more beautiful places, is there any need to leave?
Thanks for reading, friend.
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
I love this guest post . . . and suddenly the way your sister’s book came about makes a whole lot more sense.
I’m picturing a pack of wild dogs (why, I really don’t know) marauding into the airport, only to turn around and run in horror to a group of kids, lead by two blond girls, run up to pet them.
John recently posted..Where I recap blogher far too quickly
Twitter: daddyrunsalot
I love it, John. That’s pretty much right. We were two crazy little blonde girls. With really bad haircuts.
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
With such a past, how could you not have turned out any other way.
Beautifully presented: and I feel you in it.
The smoky haze of the cancerous breath of relief shall always have me picturing your little face in it.
Alexandra recently posted..Sung To The Tune of Rock Lobster
Oh, Alexandra, remember how everyone smoked on airplanes? So glad that’s changed. Thanks for visiting, dear friend.
Change Saudi -, Arabia to Zaire or Rwanda, Dhahran to Kinsasha or Kigali and you could have the story of my life. And the Pepsi versus Coca Cola… so recognizable!
Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes recently posted..The hidden evil within: cauliflower pancakes
Tinne, I want to hear the story of your life. Fascinating. You’ve hinted at growing up in an exotic locale, but I never knew where.
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
what a delightful post! and I love the photo!
Eva Gallant recently posted..Forty-nine Years and Counting
Thanks so much, Eva!
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
…and don’t forget the flock of chirping sparrows flying around the rafters of the Dhahran airport exit lounge. Loved your post, Tarja.
HA! I had forgotten them, Suzy, but it’s all coming back to me. Thanks for visiting!
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
I loved hearing about your childhood, Tarja (and it meshed so nicely with your sister’s wonderful book). And that picture? Sweetness with a side of child-on-the-lap. Missed you this weekend. xxoo
Oh, I missed you too, Dusty! Heard you did awesome. Thanks for stopping by and reading!
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
Beautiful guest post. To me, Summer used to begin with running out of school like crazy while waiting to take a plane to grandma’s a few hours later.
Running out of school like crazy – yep, whether you’re in America or Saudi, that seems to be the same!
The Flying Chalupa recently posted..Lack Of Anonymity
This is sweet Chalupster. That’s what I call you.
And I had some ideas from reading your sister’s book.
Lady Jennie recently posted..Paris, By Car