Murphy’s Law

We all know the old adage "whatever can go wrong, will go wrong” and I’m sure we have all had times when we feel that it applies directly to our life, and our life alone. I have had many, many times such as this, yet everything (and I mean everything) that I have ever wanted in my life has somehow worked out, despite the number of road blocks I might have met along the way. Knowing that this is the way things usually happen for me, I was in no way under the impression that my move to Africa would go any differently. That’s why, after a 12-hour layover at Heathrow, I really wasn’t all that shocked when a nice British gentleman came over the loudspeaker to announce that my flight to Uganda would be delayed overnight. I looked at the 2 women I had met while waiting in the gate area, and quickly offered them my apologies, as I was certain that my presence was the sole reason for this turn of events. Jess, who is from Pennsylvania and teaches at an International School in Kampala, assured me that it wasn’t my fault and that things like this happened to her all the time. Lydia, a Ugandan woman who was on holiday in Ft. Worth, of all places, assured me that things like this did NOT happen to her all the time and I got the impression that she was not opposed to placing the blame directly on my shoulders—which were already quite sore from carrying my 30 pound backpack (at this point I made a mental note to avoid Lydia on the streets of Kampala…however after spending the next 24 hours with her, I made a revision to that mental note to instead stalk her on the streets of Kampala, as she turned out to be lovely). Along with Jess and Lydia, I also spent the next day getting to know Stacy, who is 19 and came to Uganda for 3 months to work for an organization called Schools Building Schools. Upon delaying our flight, along with our hopes and dreams, British Airways (who, after their effortless handling of the situation, I am now in a monogamous relationship with) put us up in a 5-Star hotel in the airport and provided us with free meals.  So, 24 hours, 3 new friends and a plethora of mini-bar snacks later, we were back at Gate C. However, this time, the nice British gentleman decided to welcome us on board, choosing to cultivate our dreams rather than crush them. I spent the next 8 hours sat next to a precious 19 year old British chap, whose accent would have been enough, but then he kept using phrases like “use the loo” and “cheeky” (if you are familiar with my affinity for British men, then you understand that this is both the best and worst thing that could have happened to me). oh yeah, we are now Facebook friends and there is a chance that he is currently reading this so, Hi Chris! anywho, 8 hours, very little sleep and a lot of Teen Wolf and 30 Rock later, I stepped off of the airplane and onto African soil. I was more tired than I have ever been, but the realization that I was FINALLY in the exact place I had wanted to be for so long was not lost on me. I tried to keep it together while waiting in line for my Visa—had I expressed all of the emotions I was suppressing at the time, I am certain they would have sent me directly back to London, where they would have wasted no time putting me on a plane to America. and, after my seemingly endless journey to get there, that was a chance I was not willing to take. So, I remained calm, retrieved my Visa and luggage and headed out into the great (and I do mean great) unknown. I wholeheartedly believe in Murphy’s Law and can think of very few instances in my life to which it doesn’t apply. Having said that, I do think I would have to amend the adage a bit and have it go a little something like this--“whatever can go wrong, will go wrong…until it all goes right”.

all of my love and happiness,
Bliss xxxx