An operating airport with fewer people in it than Seattle's Greyhound Station (which, I should point out, is closed and slated for demolition).
Not having a gate number on your boarding pass. Granted, there are only six gates at the Marrakech airport, but would it be that hard to provide a little direction?
A prop-driven airplane that looks to be older than I am or, if it's not, has seen some awfully rough miles.
Being directed to exit the airport and find your way to the plane, and watching the two or three other passengers walk under the prop to get to the entry. Granted, the prop wasn't moving at the time, but I'm still not sure I'd stick my head in it's pathway.
Sitting on a plane built to carry seventy but that has just fourteen on board. What do the other fifty-six people know that we don't?
Being asked by the flight attendant if we're fasting and realizing that, while we're not, the pilot likely is.
Receiving every announcement in four different languages, one of which was probably English, but since the woman speaking seems to have received her language training from those 1980s FedEx commercials, I couldn't say for sure.
The noises a very old plane makes when it leaves the ground.
An angle of descent that would give some mountain passes a run for their money, even though you're flying over a very flat desert.
The noises a very old plane makes when it lands.
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