Doha, Qatar

First sign that something is amiss: as we land in Doha the plane starts filling with what looks to be dry ice - clouds of cold fog are streaming from every crevice of the plane.  Ken and I look at each other: what is going on?  Is this some kind of toxic chemical leaking into the plane?  Are our last breaths on Earth going to be inhaled tear gas in the Middle East causing our ultimate demise?  Alas, the flight attendant reassured us that because the plane descended so quickly from such high altitude and frigid temperature (I’ll say like -50 degrees F) and landed in the dessert (like +120 F) the plane’s air conditioner went on wack-out mode trying to cool the plane.  It is then we realized we were watching too much “Breaking Bad.”

Second sign that Doha is exceptional: this being the cross-roads of international travel (sorry London), thousands of nationalities are intermixing amongst the gates and shopping at Duty Free.  Loners are curled up on the floor awaiting their 3am departures to Kathmandu.  We arrived at 12:30am and didn’t depart until 7am (perhaps our most painful layover?).  We were pleasantly surprised to locate what I’ll call a “sleeping lounge” near gate 7, essentially a quartered off area with vinyl recliners each with its own blanket.  An Arab man in full white garb from head to toe watched to ensure no one disturbed us.  Qatar Airways you rock, we were planning to sleep on the floor with the commoners.