Last week, last flight out

How we made it from Doha to Athens just before the airspace shut 

 By Ashwin Ahmad

The Hammad International Airport in Doha was a buzz of quiet activity as we disembarked from our Qatar Airways flight from Delhi.

It’s one of the best airports to spend your transit time in.

 Well-polished staff from various nationalities ushered us efficiently through security for our connecting flight to Athens. With our phones switched to silent and internet connections switched off, we were unaware of the headlines on television screens worldwide as we boarded what we believed was a routine flight from Doha to Athens.

All major news alerts today come via a ping, and it was a ping on the mobile phone followed by a gasp that alerted us to the fact that something had happened. Behind us an American lady who was expertly juggling two toddlers and a mobile phone relayed the news that the rest of the world had already been privy to. Iran has just attacked the Al Udeid Air Base – the US’s military base in southwestern Doha – with a missile, stating afterwards that the strikes “do not pose any threat to our friendly and brotherly neighbour Qatar.” Qatar had vowed to defend itself and more importantly, as far as we were concerned, shut down its airspace, leaving us the lucky ones. Lucky, because we had avoided the fate of thousands of travellers stranded at Doha airport.

International call tunes hummed from mobiles across the room as frantic friends and families called desperate to know our fate. Contacts of potential friends, people of influence and the Indian ambassador in Qatar magically appeared as I removed the ‘Flight Mode’ from my mobile and switched on to WhatsApp. It was then we realised what the lady behind us had just understood a minute ago. Our flight had been one of the last flights to fly out of Doha and into Athens before the missile had struck.

“Mom, I want to go back to Colorado.”

The small voice, coming from the toddler behind us helped dissipate some of the tension in the room. Smiles appeared as we listened to the mother patiently explain to her son why we needed to stand in line, why “these people” (her toddler’s words to describe Greek security) needed to see our passports (a long dialogue emerged as to what was a passport) and why they could not return to Colorado in the next five minutes. This exchange conducted at high-decibel levels, as both mother and son became increasingly frustrated with the other, had the most stony-faced passengers smiling.

“Welcome to Athens,” said the officer as I approached the counter.

The formalities took less than a few minutes and the gates magically parted behind the guard as I hurried through them eager to finally experience Athens. Behind me, I heard the toddler wailing as his mother handed her passport to the smiling Greek security officer. The situation now seemed to be under control.  

My phone buzzed and I answered it smiling. It was my mother.

“Have you reached Athens?”

“No, Mom.” I answered. “I’m in Colorado.”