24 hours to Doha

I’m currently sitting in the departure lounge of Winnipeg’s James A. Richardson International Airport.

The next time I set foot outside I’ll be half a world away, a stone’s throw from the Persian Gulf, in sunny Doha, Qatar.

My journey will be a fairly direct one, with a mere two stops: Toronto (Pearson) and London (Heathrow).

The uncharacteristically friendly gate agent from Air Canada (I know, weird) kindly seated me on the aisle of an exit row for the Toronto-London leg. He made my day.

Not making my day: the jerk sitting next to me here in the lounge who has decided to remove his shoes.

Attention Jerk: your feet smell like well-worn hockey equipment.

Here’s hoping the gate agent and the smelly feet guy cancel each other out, thereby restoring the universe’s cosmic balance and ensuring a (reasonably) easy trip.

Rest assured, I’ll let you know either way.

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