... is what I hear a lot from my wife in last xy years spent together (in a different context). Today I realized she might be right.
Lucky strike #1: it is about 2 hrs 15 min between our house and Marco Polo airport in Venice. Made that part of the highway many times, so feeling confident about driving times we started from the house at 11:30 am for departure flight 15:50. Being already checked-in on line we should be at the Fast Bag Drop counter 60 min earlier; a smooth sailing was in my planes. Yet not more than 2 minutes after we waved goodbye to daughter and neighbours, a horror started. By overpassing the nearby highway I’ve noticed a bumper to bumper slow going traffic in our intended direction. Frantically switched radio on just to hear that not only one but two accidents has happened further up the highway in the direction to seaside … and Italy. Faster than the lady from Garmin is able to say “recalculating” my brains have already envisioned a safe escape route; over the hills local road is connection small villages along the general direction of the highway. Very windy but hopefully empty. I’ve put myself into the Colin McRae mode and off we go. Lancia did a great job keeping everybody on the road, and after 1 hr 30 min we reached Italian border (it is 45 min when the highway is not congested). My DW, otherwise quite a picky co-driver, didn’t uttered a word until we were on the safe side, and even then her only words were: “I was so close to throw up”. Well, my darling, you could, yet I would not stopped for this.
Lucky strike #2: the flight from Doha to Johannesburg continued toward Maputo. We disembarked, walked the long corridors to the immigration point, and my DW even has time to go to the toilet. She was fast, and upon returning, she looked at me and asked: “Where is your vest?” I turn on my heels, engage into Usain Bolt mode for the first 50 meters, then switched into Sebastin Coe mode ending my run back to the disembarking gate in true Emil Zatopek fashion (google for details). There was a ground officer at the doors, who immediately understood the seriousness of the situation, and went to the plane. A few moments later the flight crew exited and they were both concerned about my health (to be honest, my lunges did produced some nasty noises) and happy to tell me that the vest was found intact. Phew! Got my vest, my spectacles (not important), my phone (mildly important) and my valet (very important) back. I did not run back to the immigration line (how could I?!).
So our flight from home to Windhoek was pretty much uneventful; here are some short notices:
Qatar Airways has excellent on board entertainment system; large LCD screens and large selection of movies;
there is no ATM machine on departure floor of Terminal A at JNB;
the WDH immigration time was average at 45 minutes;
to withdraw the cash from ATM using VISA debit card you need to go to “savings”.
Staying our first night at Villa Violet; very friendly and client oriented owners, nice and well equipped room, very quiet surroundings. Eat first game meat at, yes, you guessed it, At Joe’s Beerhouse. Local draft lager at 15,60 N$: great taste, very cold, and cheap. Our first Africa encounter started excellent.