Cairo Hotel—Everyone should land there once. On the way to Wad Medani, Sudan, Summer 1981
One night in the Cairo Airport hotel was enough to last me a lifetime . By morning I had taken the cure. A night of frightfull surprises salted with anger and frustration. I spent my one and only night there after a grueling 12 hour flight from the fair island of Crete. There was indeed a study in stark contrast.
The year was 1981. I was a cropduster and I had been commissioned to fly DDT on cotton in The Sudan. The money was good, there was certainly the adventure I was always seeking at that age in my life. Plus they wanted me to fly the airplane there. One night in the Cairo Hotel provided me with an everlasting cure for further adventure of yet far horizons. That night I was cut in two. That night the shadowy thief of macho and fearlessness that is bred into every man stole a big chunk of it. One night in the Cairo Hotel introduced me to something that had seldom occurred to me before then: FEAR! Fear that there was another hotel over the next horizon just like it. It was then dispite years of being an altar boy that I learned to pray. Lord save me from the Cairo Hotel. .
I took off out of Lydd England on a foggy morning, bound across the Channel for France. How I came to spend the 16th night of the trip in Corfu is certainly another story which I will relate in another tome, but in Corfu I met 6 other pilots who were ferrying aircraft to Saudia Arabia. We partied and we partied, and partied the night away. The next morning we flew our aircraft across the Medeterranian to an old Roman town called Heraklion, on the fair isle of Crete. Having found myself with spare expense money and the same 6 fellows, we partied, and we partied and we partied all through the night. The following morning I did not look forward to the 12 hour flight ahead of me to Cairo. Summer in the Med is hot.
Why not file for Cairo says I to one of the 6. We will party on. “No” he said. We are filing straight through to Jeddah.” “Cmon says I ,we can have a lot of fun together in Cairo tonight” He looked at me with an unprepossessing expression and said: “ You’ve never landed in Cairo before? After responding in the negative he looked away to the horizon and said the words that were to be forever branded into my very being. “ I suppose everyone should land there once” and with that he walked away. I never saw him again. Our partying was over, but those words were to become forever branded on my psyche.
Those words. 'I suppose everyone should land there once'. For the next 12 hours I rolled those words over and over again in my mind. I wonder what he meant. "Everyone should land there once." Everyone should land there once". What did he mean? I wanted to do it once. That’s what I was all about. I was an adventurer. I wanted to do everything once. NO! Not any more. One night in the Cairo Hotel cured me of that.
The approach and landing to the airport were rather anti-climatic after a hot and miserable 12 hours over water and desert and horrendous exchange with Cairo approach.
There is a procedure and syntax aviators use on the radio. Basically they want to know who you are, were you are and what you want.
“Cairo Approach, This is Gulf November Tango Whisky Hotel, single engine Piper, 40 miles East Fullstop Cairo over. “ No response but I can hear Approach on the radio talking to other aircraft.
“ Cairo Approach, This is Gulf November Tango Whisky Hotel, single engine Piper 40 miles east, full stop Cairo over.
“ Gulf November, are you over the Pyramids yet? “,
“Negative”
“Gulf November, if you are 40 miles east you must be over the Pyramids”
The only pyramids I knew about were the 3 at Giza and I certainly did not see any others.
“Gulf November, if you are 40 miles East you must be over the pyramids!”
“Negative on the pyramids" I respond” I was a little confused. At that time I was unaware that there are hundreds of pyramids all over Egypt. I thought he must mean the Pyramids of Giza which I knew to be from prior visits to be about 2 miles out of the City.
“Cairo this is American 264 Heavy landing Cairo “
“264 Heavy Cairo Approach. Decend and maintain 10,000 feet and hold north east at the outer marker. There is a bad pilot somewhere out there who is lost and I must guide him by the hand”
Oh Brother. .. How many times folks have you heard or read anything about bad pilots. Most pilots are brave, good, mom’s apple pie, true and fearless or described in every newspaper story about how the pilot sacrificed his life in one way or another. Bad Pilot? 'Sonny, Ever seen a grown man naked?' Bad pilots simply don’t exist outside of the movies. A bad pilot? Because I don’t see whatever pyramids this maniac controller expected me to see I am all of a sudden a bad pilot. After navigating from England over the Med through the Sahara Desert with a radio that would be better replaced with two tin cans and a string, no electronic navigation equipment and a magnetic compass that was 16 degrees off in the wrong direction from what they told me it was I am in one fell swoop announced to the world or at least every pilot listening to Cairo Approach that they are burning tons of extra fuel waiting for this self described hero of an approach controller to guide the ‘bad pilot’ by the hand to Cairo International.
‘I suppose everyone should land there once’ was beginning to make sense. If that was only the half of it.
I finally landed at Cairo and while tying the aircraft down I hit upon what was to become one of the worst decisions of my life. Save time by staying at the Cairo Airport Hotel.
I was hot and sweaty and exhausted after two days of partying and a 12 hour flight. I was in dire need of a bath dinner and bed.
On the way to Immigration I was stopped by an airport policeman on the ramp. He eyed the yellow survival life raft I was carrying with suspicion.
“Open!” I spent the next 45 minutes explaining to him that I could not open the c02 canister which was pressurized with 1800psi of CO2. The only English he knew was “open and bomb”. In frustration I threw the bottle down on the tarmac as hard as I could and yelled “No boom boom!” That seemed to convince him. I think it frightened him. It was as if he knew it was a co2 bottle and was simply harassisng me. He drew back and shooed me on my way. I proceeded to Immigration.
The 2nd great adventure in the Cairo Airport was just getting to my hotel room. Immigration informed me that since I was staying on the aircraft grounds they had to retain my passport. They then sent me on my way. The first hall way on the way to the Cairo Hotel met me with two armed guards.
“Papers”!
I have no papers, Immigration took my papers.
“Papers!” I return to the immigration desk and after explaining that I can’t get past the guards he waves to them and yells. “He is ok”
I then hurry past the guards and follow the signs down the hallway to the hotel. I turn the corner and am again greeted by armed guards.
“Papers!”
Oh yes. If By this time you are forming a picture in your mind of what went on next you are right! I spent the next ½ hour walking back and forth but the scariest part was when I tried to get back to the immigration desk from the hallway and was greeted by the first guards.
“Papers!” Now I was trapped in the hallway. Fortunately I was within yelling distance.
"Hey You", I yelled. I didn’t know his name. I saw him but he wouldn’t turn around. After yelling at the top of my voice “Hey you” I took a stab at a name and Yelled “Mohammed” He immediately turned around. Over there everyone is named Mohammed.
When you are in the Middle East. Wear your pips, shoulder boards, big fancy hat, anything that designates you as a person of authority. Other airline aircrew were passing freely around the airport with out interference. I was wearing levi cutoffs and a football tee shirt with a big red 10 on it. . Wear your pips.
Now to the elevator and up to my room. I envisioned a hot shower a cigarette, a nap before dinner. The elevator door opened. The elevator was packed wall to wall with sweaty Egyptians. Halfway between the 2nd and 3rd the elevator stopped. We waited body to sweaty, body. With no shower since leaving Crete, I was starting to feel quite at home in that elevator. After a moment or two they began mumbling. One of them reached out through an opening in the elevator to some wires in the shaft. I saw a spark and the elevator began moving again. I suppose that is called knowing how to work the system. These guys truly were natives.
Having arrived at my floor I walked down the dingy hallway toward my door. I opened the door to a dingier room, walked in flopped my gear on the bed, stripped and headed immediately for the shower. No water. Not one drop. I flopped back down on the bed and realized I didn’t have a match for my cigarette. I called the front desk about the water, put on some pants and went looking for a light. Down the hall I spotted a cleaning lady, who whipped out an old book of matches and offered to sell me one for $1. I stormed back into my room, slammed the door and went to bed.
Two hours the phone rang. "The water is now available Sir" I showered in cold water and fell back into bed. The next morning I was really looking forward to getting out of there. I took the stairs to the restaurant, sat in an empty booth, waiting for some service. There was a greasy looking fellow two tables down pushing a cart, table to table. When he arrived I requested a menu. "This is the menu" Whereby he splopped a large spoonful of something brown on the plate in front of me. "That is ten dollars Sir", holding out his hand. "I only have Egytptian pounds." I replied. "NO NO NO! I cannot accept Egyptian pounds!. Do you know what they do to me if I accept Egyptian Pounds? They cut off my arm! " He gestured with one hand where his arm would be severed. Apparently he had never acceped Egyptian Pounds because he still had both arms attached through his dingy tee shirt to his sweaty body." No! Only Dollars or English Pounds!" I was hungry enough to just pay him and dig in. It looked bad, but tasted something like refried beans. Breakfast.
Off I went to look at the weather and file for Luxor. 1000 miles south. The weather station looked like someone's bathroom. "I need a weather forecast for a flight to Luxor" I said. "The weather is ok man", he replied. "No. I mean I need a printout of the forecast. Winds aloft, temprature, density altitude, surface winds and precipitation for the next ten hours." He looks at me and replies. " Its ok Man" "Are you the weather man? I said. "The weather is ok Man", he replied. The thought crossed my mind that those were the only weather words he knew in English. I left and proceeded to flight ops. "Papers!" Yelled the first guard. I yelled back that my papers had been confiscated by the idiot at the front door. I was beginning to lose it. At that time an official appeared from out of no where. "Follow me Sir". Finally! I'm getting some respect around here. Ok then. Instead of escorting me to Flight Ops he pushed into an office where a large military looking man with lots of scrambled eggs is sitting behind a desk. I wait for him to say something. "Where are your papers?" I again repeated what I had said many times that my papers were taken by the immigration person at the front counter. "What is his name?" " How do I know what his name is! Mohammed, Achmid, something like that!" At that he stood up and pointed at me. "You are a spy!! You are CIA" "CIA? I can barely spell CIA. Why would I be CIA. I'm only flying a cropduster to the Sudan!" For crap sake. "Well, everyone should land there once." was really coming home to me. "Prove to me you are not a CIA spy". "How can I prove that. I'm here for an overnight fuel stop. I was on my way to Flight Ops to file a flight plan for Luxor. I have not asked anything of anyone except the cleaning lady for a match. Why do you think I'm a spy? From what I've seen so far Egypt has nothing the CIA could be remotely interested in. Why do you think I'm a spy?" "You are not a spy?. Ok. Then maybe you aren't a spy." and he stuck out his hand infront a toothy smile. . Greetings and welcome to Cairo. I hope your stay has been most enjoyable. GUARD! Show this gentleman who insists he is not a spy to Flight Ops." If I said this was an exaggeration I would be lying. The guard took me to Flight Ops and then to immigration, where I retrieved my passport and headed out to the aircraft. Now I'm the one who can look disconnected off into the distance and say: "Well, I suppose everyone should land there once." I can't wait.
"
One night in the Cairo Airport hotel was enough to last me a lifetime . By morning I had taken the cure. A night of frightfull surprises salted with anger and frustration. I spent my one and only night there after a grueling 12 hour flight from the fair island of Crete. There was indeed a study in stark contrast.
The year was 1981. I was a cropduster and I had been commissioned to fly DDT on cotton in The Sudan. The money was good, there was certainly the adventure I was always seeking at that age in my life. Plus they wanted me to fly the airplane there. One night in the Cairo Hotel provided me with an everlasting cure for further adventure of yet far horizons. That night I was cut in two. That night the shadowy thief of macho and fearlessness that is bred into every man stole a big chunk of it. One night in the Cairo Hotel introduced me to something that had seldom occurred to me before then: FEAR! Fear that there was another hotel over the next horizon just like it. It was then dispite years of being an altar boy that I learned to pray. Lord save me from the Cairo Hotel. .
I took off out of Lydd England on a foggy morning, bound across the Channel for France. How I came to spend the 16th night of the trip in Corfu is certainly another story which I will relate in another tome, but in Corfu I met 6 other pilots who were ferrying aircraft to Saudia Arabia. We partied and we partied, and partied the night away. The next morning we flew our aircraft across the Medeterranian to an old Roman town called Heraklion, on the fair isle of Crete. Having found myself with spare expense money and the same 6 fellows, we partied, and we partied and we partied all through the night. The following morning I did not look forward to the 12 hour flight ahead of me to Cairo. Summer in the Med is hot.
Why not file for Cairo says I to one of the 6. We will party on. “No” he said. We are filing straight through to Jeddah.” “Cmon says I ,we can have a lot of fun together in Cairo tonight” He looked at me with an unprepossessing expression and said: “ You’ve never landed in Cairo before? After responding in the negative he looked away to the horizon and said the words that were to be forever branded into my very being. “ I suppose everyone should land there once” and with that he walked away. I never saw him again. Our partying was over, but those words were to become forever branded on my psyche.
Those words. 'I suppose everyone should land there once'. For the next 12 hours I rolled those words over and over again in my mind. I wonder what he meant. "Everyone should land there once." Everyone should land there once". What did he mean? I wanted to do it once. That’s what I was all about. I was an adventurer. I wanted to do everything once. NO! Not any more. One night in the Cairo Hotel cured me of that.
The approach and landing to the airport were rather anti-climatic after a hot and miserable 12 hours over water and desert and horrendous exchange with Cairo approach.
There is a procedure and syntax aviators use on the radio. Basically they want to know who you are, were you are and what you want.
“Cairo Approach, This is Gulf November Tango Whisky Hotel, single engine Piper, 40 miles East Fullstop Cairo over. “ No response but I can hear Approach on the radio talking to other aircraft.
“ Cairo Approach, This is Gulf November Tango Whisky Hotel, single engine Piper 40 miles east, full stop Cairo over.
“ Gulf November, are you over the Pyramids yet? “,
“Negative”
“Gulf November, if you are 40 miles east you must be over the Pyramids”
The only pyramids I knew about were the 3 at Giza and I certainly did not see any others.
“Gulf November, if you are 40 miles East you must be over the pyramids!”
“Negative on the pyramids" I respond” I was a little confused. At that time I was unaware that there are hundreds of pyramids all over Egypt. I thought he must mean the Pyramids of Giza which I knew to be from prior visits to be about 2 miles out of the City.
“Cairo this is American 264 Heavy landing Cairo “
“264 Heavy Cairo Approach. Decend and maintain 10,000 feet and hold north east at the outer marker. There is a bad pilot somewhere out there who is lost and I must guide him by the hand”
Oh Brother. .. How many times folks have you heard or read anything about bad pilots. Most pilots are brave, good, mom’s apple pie, true and fearless or described in every newspaper story about how the pilot sacrificed his life in one way or another. Bad Pilot? 'Sonny, Ever seen a grown man naked?' Bad pilots simply don’t exist outside of the movies. A bad pilot? Because I don’t see whatever pyramids this maniac controller expected me to see I am all of a sudden a bad pilot. After navigating from England over the Med through the Sahara Desert with a radio that would be better replaced with two tin cans and a string, no electronic navigation equipment and a magnetic compass that was 16 degrees off in the wrong direction from what they told me it was I am in one fell swoop announced to the world or at least every pilot listening to Cairo Approach that they are burning tons of extra fuel waiting for this self described hero of an approach controller to guide the ‘bad pilot’ by the hand to Cairo International.
‘I suppose everyone should land there once’ was beginning to make sense. If that was only the half of it.
I finally landed at Cairo and while tying the aircraft down I hit upon what was to become one of the worst decisions of my life. Save time by staying at the Cairo Airport Hotel.
I was hot and sweaty and exhausted after two days of partying and a 12 hour flight. I was in dire need of a bath dinner and bed.
On the way to Immigration I was stopped by an airport policeman on the ramp. He eyed the yellow survival life raft I was carrying with suspicion.
“Open!” I spent the next 45 minutes explaining to him that I could not open the c02 canister which was pressurized with 1800psi of CO2. The only English he knew was “open and bomb”. In frustration I threw the bottle down on the tarmac as hard as I could and yelled “No boom boom!” That seemed to convince him. I think it frightened him. It was as if he knew it was a co2 bottle and was simply harassisng me. He drew back and shooed me on my way. I proceeded to Immigration.
The 2nd great adventure in the Cairo Airport was just getting to my hotel room. Immigration informed me that since I was staying on the aircraft grounds they had to retain my passport. They then sent me on my way. The first hall way on the way to the Cairo Hotel met me with two armed guards.
“Papers”!
I have no papers, Immigration took my papers.
“Papers!” I return to the immigration desk and after explaining that I can’t get past the guards he waves to them and yells. “He is ok”
I then hurry past the guards and follow the signs down the hallway to the hotel. I turn the corner and am again greeted by armed guards.
“Papers!”
Oh yes. If By this time you are forming a picture in your mind of what went on next you are right! I spent the next ½ hour walking back and forth but the scariest part was when I tried to get back to the immigration desk from the hallway and was greeted by the first guards.
“Papers!” Now I was trapped in the hallway. Fortunately I was within yelling distance.
"Hey You", I yelled. I didn’t know his name. I saw him but he wouldn’t turn around. After yelling at the top of my voice “Hey you” I took a stab at a name and Yelled “Mohammed” He immediately turned around. Over there everyone is named Mohammed.
When you are in the Middle East. Wear your pips, shoulder boards, big fancy hat, anything that designates you as a person of authority. Other airline aircrew were passing freely around the airport with out interference. I was wearing levi cutoffs and a football tee shirt with a big red 10 on it. . Wear your pips.
Now to the elevator and up to my room. I envisioned a hot shower a cigarette, a nap before dinner. The elevator door opened. The elevator was packed wall to wall with sweaty Egyptians. Halfway between the 2nd and 3rd the elevator stopped. We waited body to sweaty, body. With no shower since leaving Crete, I was starting to feel quite at home in that elevator. After a moment or two they began mumbling. One of them reached out through an opening in the elevator to some wires in the shaft. I saw a spark and the elevator began moving again. I suppose that is called knowing how to work the system. These guys truly were natives.
Having arrived at my floor I walked down the dingy hallway toward my door. I opened the door to a dingier room, walked in flopped my gear on the bed, stripped and headed immediately for the shower. No water. Not one drop. I flopped back down on the bed and realized I didn’t have a match for my cigarette. I called the front desk about the water, put on some pants and went looking for a light. Down the hall I spotted a cleaning lady, who whipped out an old book of matches and offered to sell me one for $1. I stormed back into my room, slammed the door and went to bed.
Two hours the phone rang. "The water is now available Sir" I showered in cold water and fell back into bed. The next morning I was really looking forward to getting out of there. I took the stairs to the restaurant, sat in an empty booth, waiting for some service. There was a greasy looking fellow two tables down pushing a cart, table to table. When he arrived I requested a menu. "This is the menu" Whereby he splopped a large spoonful of something brown on the plate in front of me. "That is ten dollars Sir", holding out his hand. "I only have Egytptian pounds." I replied. "NO NO NO! I cannot accept Egyptian pounds!. Do you know what they do to me if I accept Egyptian Pounds? They cut off my arm! " He gestured with one hand where his arm would be severed. Apparently he had never acceped Egyptian Pounds because he still had both arms attached through his dingy tee shirt to his sweaty body." No! Only Dollars or English Pounds!" I was hungry enough to just pay him and dig in. It looked bad, but tasted something like refried beans. Breakfast.
Off I went to look at the weather and file for Luxor. 1000 miles south. The weather station looked like someone's bathroom. "I need a weather forecast for a flight to Luxor" I said. "The weather is ok man", he replied. "No. I mean I need a printout of the forecast. Winds aloft, temprature, density altitude, surface winds and precipitation for the next ten hours." He looks at me and replies. " Its ok Man" "Are you the weather man? I said. "The weather is ok Man", he replied. The thought crossed my mind that those were the only weather words he knew in English. I left and proceeded to flight ops. "Papers!" Yelled the first guard. I yelled back that my papers had been confiscated by the idiot at the front door. I was beginning to lose it. At that time an official appeared from out of no where. "Follow me Sir". Finally! I'm getting some respect around here. Ok then. Instead of escorting me to Flight Ops he pushed into an office where a large military looking man with lots of scrambled eggs is sitting behind a desk. I wait for him to say something. "Where are your papers?" I again repeated what I had said many times that my papers were taken by the immigration person at the front counter. "What is his name?" " How do I know what his name is! Mohammed, Achmid, something like that!" At that he stood up and pointed at me. "You are a spy!! You are CIA" "CIA? I can barely spell CIA. Why would I be CIA. I'm only flying a cropduster to the Sudan!" For crap sake. "Well, everyone should land there once." was really coming home to me. "Prove to me you are not a CIA spy". "How can I prove that. I'm here for an overnight fuel stop. I was on my way to Flight Ops to file a flight plan for Luxor. I have not asked anything of anyone except the cleaning lady for a match. Why do you think I'm a spy? From what I've seen so far Egypt has nothing the CIA could be remotely interested in. Why do you think I'm a spy?" "You are not a spy?. Ok. Then maybe you aren't a spy." and he stuck out his hand infront a toothy smile. . Greetings and welcome to Cairo. I hope your stay has been most enjoyable. GUARD! Show this gentleman who insists he is not a spy to Flight Ops." If I said this was an exaggeration I would be lying. The guard took me to Flight Ops and then to immigration, where I retrieved my passport and headed out to the aircraft. Now I'm the one who can look disconnected off into the distance and say: "Well, I suppose everyone should land there once." I can't wait.
"
1 comment:
Interesting blog. It would be great if you can provide more details about it. Thanks you.
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