A Traumatizing Travel Experience

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A mother travels with her four month-old twins and mother-in-law from Egypt to Rome on-route to New York. Their connection flight from Rome to New York gets cancelled and they end up having to spend the night at the airport. They almost run out of diapers and formula.
Next day, while they are trying to board their new flight to the US, the mother realizes that her passport has gone missing.

Submitted: July 31, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 31, 2015



The Missing Passport

by Aliaa Dawoud

Based on a true story


I made sure that my mother-in-law was comfortably seated and that my four-month old twins sleeping in their individual strollers were right next to her and took my turn in the queue so that we could board the flight that would finally take us from Rome to Chicago. As I approached the counter, I opened my purse to fetch our passports and boarding passes but I only found three– not four – passports and four boarding passes. I found two blue passports and one green passport. In other words, I found the twins' American passports and only one Egyptian passport, which happened to be that of my mother-in-law. My passport was missing.

I went back to where my mother-in-law and the twins were seated and searched the twins' diaper bag, my backpack and our carryon bag but found nothing.

"What's wrong? What are you looking for?" My mother-in-law asked.

"My passport! My passport! I can't find my passport!" I replied.


*** *** **** **


Thirty-six hours earlier we had arrived at Cairo International Airport. My mother-in-law checked us into the flight, while I struggled to hold both of the twins' bottles and feed them simultaneously while they sat in their individual strollers. Amidst all this a woman sitting nearby chose me – out of all the people at the airport – to inquire about filling in some kind of card in order to check into her flight. I tried not to be rude, but found it very difficult to even listen to what she was trying to say.

My mother-in-law came back to us after what seemed to be forever to find that I was holding Yassin and patting his back in an attempt to burp him, while Youssef was screaming in his stroller because he needed to be burped too. She burped him and then we each pushed a stroller while clumsily clutching a diaper bag, a backpack and a carryon bag, in addition to two large purses and headed to passport control.

While the officer asked me the usual questions, Youssef started crying, so I took him out of his stroller to comfort him but as soon as I did so, he ended up burping again and having a reflux. His bib was soaking wet and some of the reflux landed onto the counter, right next to one of our passports. I apologized and my mother-in-law started fetching some tissues and wipes to clean up the mess while I changed his bib and placed the dirty one in an empty plastic bag inside the diaper bag.

I was so relieved when we finally got onto the plane that would take us to Rome, on-route to New York. But as soon as we sat down, Yassin pooped. I really wanted to get up in order to take him to the toilet and change his diaper, but all of the flight attendants were on edge and kept saying:

"Sit down! Sit down! We are running late! We need to take off immediately!”  

I even heard a flight attendant say:

"Just sit down anywhere!" to a passenger who was trying to show her his boarding pass and look for his designated sit.

I then noticed that a little girl who was sitting next to me was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mom … mom … I want my mom."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

Even though I could hardly breathe because of the smell of Yassin's poop, I tried to comfort her and asked her to describe what her mother looked like or what she was wearing. I then started asking those sitting around me to look around for her until we located her sitting three rows infront of us.

"Don't worry. I know where she is. As soon as the plane takes off I will take you to her. Ok? Don't worry." But she continued to cry nevertheless.

After the plane took off, and we were free to move around, I escorted the little girl to her mother while holding Yassin, a clean diaper and baby wipes. I then headed to the toilet to change Yassin's diaper, only to find that he had diarrhea and that there was poop all over his clothes. I ended up having to go back to fetch the diaper bag in order to change his clothes and place the dirty ones in that plastic bag.  


*** *** **** **


It was not long before we landed in Rome and were onto our next adventure. We only had two hours and a half to get everything done and board our next plane that would take us to New York. I was worried that we might miss the flight because of all of the hassle of taking care of the twins.

At the airport, I left my mother-in-law to handle the twins while I looked and asked around in order to check us into our next flight. I think we were the very last passengers trying to check into the flight. I gave the airline representative our passports and tickets and then she suddenly started saying something in Italian to one of her colleagues. She sounded very upset.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"The flight has been cancelled," she replied and then started speaking in Italian to her colleague again.

After that, it was a complete mess. All of the passengers who were supposed to take that flight stood in very long queues, while the airline representatives tried to reschedule them onto other flights.

I went over to my mother-in-law and told her that our flight had been cancelled. She was very shocked.

“What?! What are we going to do?”

“They are going to reschedule us onto another flight. I have to stay in the queue …”

“Ok go, go,” she interrupted me “Don’t worry about the boys. I will handle them.”

While I was waiting in the queue, I texted my husband and told him that our flight had been cancelled. A few minutes later, I heard a baby cry. I turned around to find that my mother-in-law was holding and feeding Youssef and signing a lullaby to try and comfort Yassin. But it was not working. I left the queue and went over to help out.

"I think he pooped again," my mother-in-law said.

I took him to the nearest restroom and started changing his dipper. His diarrhea had gotten worst, he had developed a diaper rash and I ended up having to change all of his clothes again. My phone kept ringing while I did so.

"He has a diaper rash and his clothes are full of poop again," I told my mother-in-law after I went back to where she and Youssef were sitting.

“Oh dear,” she said. “How long are we going to stay here? When is the next flight to New York?”

My phone started ringing again. It was my husband. I was in tears by now.

"Khaled we are in a complete mess. Our flight got cancelled, Yassin has a diaper rash and …"

"Calm down and stop crying. Everything will be alright, ok? Now what is the situation?"

"The airline representatives are trying to reschedule all of the passengers onto other flights and I can't even join the queue because the boys are giving us such a hard time," I said and started to cry.

"Ok, just try to calm down. They are going to have to reschedule you onto another flight anyway, even if you are not in the queue. Ok? The only problem is that passengers who are rescheduled first will get onto flights that are leaving sooner. Just do your best to leave the boys with mom and join the queue. I know it's hard. Just do your best and everything will be alright."

"Ok, ok."

"Keep me posted."

By now the plastic bag which contained the boys’ dirty clothes was almost full and it smelled horrible. I took it out of the boys’ diaper bag and put it on a seat next to my mother-in-law because I did not want the bag itself to smell.

As soon as I rejoined the queue I overheard some passengers telling their families that they were going to take a flight that was leaving that night.

"Oh my God! Are we going to spend the whole day here in this mess?!" I wondered.

I stood in the queue for 15 minutes or so and then I heard a baby cry again. I turned around to find that both of the boys were crying and my mother-in-law was trying to hold both of them simultaneously but it looked like Youssef was about to fall on the floor. I left the queue again and held Youssef. As soon as I did so he burped and had a massive reflux so that both my clothes and his were soaked in stinky formula. I headed to the restroom again and changed all of his clothes and tried to clean up mine as much as possible using baby wipes.

“I heard some passengers saying that they were rescheduled onto a flight that leaves tonight,” I told my mother-in-law when I came back.

“Oh my God,” she said.

There was no room in the plastic bag any more. I put Youssef’s dirty clothes on top of it and rejoined the queue.

I do not know how long it all took, nor could I figure out how many times I had to leave the queue to help my mother-in-law out with the boys. But I do know that there were very few passengers around when I finally got to the desk and spoke to the airline representative. He booked us a flight to Miami that was going to depart the following morning, and it was up to us to book a connecting flight to New York.

“You will spend the night in a hotel right next to the airport. Just follow the signs to exit the airport,” he said as he gave me our new tickets.

 I called my husband and told him about the arrangements that had been made for us.

“See I told you things would be alright,” he said.


I rearranged the boys’ diaper bag so that the dirty clothes which did not fit in the plastic bag were in a separate compartment than their clean clothes. It was then that I realized that we would soon be running out of clean clothes for them. After that, we started following the exit signs.

Moving around the airport while pushing the strollers and holing all of our bags was such a hassle. When we finally arrived at passport control we were asked to leave the queue and go to a nearby office. Nobody spoke much English so I had no idea what was going on. In that office we met what seemed to be a police officer. After looking at our passports he said something in Italian to an employee in his office. All I could make out was:

“passporto Egyptiano, bambino passporto Americano”

After that we were asked to follow a gentleman from that office. He took us on what seemed to be a round trip of the entire airport and I had a feeling that he was going around in circles but he did not speak any English and so we had no choice but to continue to follow him.

We were very surprised to find ourselves back at the desk where the airline representatives had booked our new flight. The gentleman we had been following for so long said something in Italian to one of the airline representatives and he finally explained to me what was going on:

“I am sorry, but you cannot leave the airport because Egyptians need a visa to Italy. Your children can leave the airport, but you and the other passenger who also has an Egyptian passport cannot,” he said.

“What? They are babies, they cannot leave the airport on their own,” I was very shocked. “So what now?”

“You will have to spend the night here. There are no hotels inside the airport,” he replied.

I looked around and finally understood what was going on. Around 20 other passengers were standing infront of that desk arguing with the airline representatives. I could tell by their looks, the various languages that the spoke amongst themselves and/or the passports that they were holding that they all came from other equally miserable developing countries whose citizens needed visas to Italy as well.

“What?! You expect us to spend the night here with two babies?!”

Things were far worse than the first time around when the airline representatives were only required to reschedule flights. This time all of the passengers were very angry, there was no queue, everybody was speaking at the same time and the airline representatives tried to attend to several passengers simultaneously.

“Where are the babies going to sleep?! I need milk for my babies. I do not have enough milk to get us through the night!”

“Yeah I am sure you can buy milk from the cafeteria,” one of the airline representatives said and pointed to a nearby cafeteria.

“They are four months-old. They drink baby milk and not regular milk,” I avoided using the word formula because I did not think she would understand. “And where are we going to sleep?! Are you telling me that four months-old babies are going to sleep on these uncomfortable chairs or in the floor?!”

Before she could reply, another passenger started arguing with her about his situation.

I went over to where my mother-in-law was sitting and told her what was going on. She panicked.

“We are going to spend the night here? Where are we going to sleep? What about the boys? These chairs are very uncomfortable and they cannot spend 24 hours in their strollers, their backs will hurt them. Do we have enough formula and diapers to get us through the night?”

“I think I should try to contact the American Embassy here in Rome but I am going to call Khaled first.”

Khaled googled the Embassy’s number and gave it to me. I dialed the number and as soon as someone picked up I started telling him the whole story very hurriedly.

“I am stuck at Rome airport with my twins. Our flight was cancelled. We cannot leave the airport because I am Egyptian but my children are American and we do not have enough diapers and formula …”

I did not realize that - apparently – he was just an operator who needed basic information to transfer me to the right person. He interrupted me and asked:

“Hold on, hold. You are talking about American citizens, right?”

“Yes, both of my children are American citizens but I am not.”

“Ok. Hold on please.”

He put me on hold and then someone else picked up. I tried to calm down and explained the situation to him slowly and clearly.

“We do not have enough formula and diapers to get us through the night and my four month-old twins cannot spend the night in their strollers or sleep on the floor! Please try to get us out of the airport!”

“Ok. I will make some phone calls and see what I can do. Is there a number where I can reach you?”

I gave him my cell phone number and hung up.

I tried to head back to the queue but my mother-in-law was desperately waving and calling for me. Yassin had had another reflux and his clothes and those of my mother-in-law were in very bad shape. She took some baby wipes out of the package and started to clean her clothes. This time, I found it very difficult to find a set of clean clothes for Yassin. I ended up having to take all of the boys’ clean clothes out of the bag and put them on a nearby chair. It was then that I realized that we would soon be running out of clean clothes for the boys. 

I finally went back to the counter and tried to talk to one of the airline representatives again. All of the other passengers from the various developing countries were very angry and they all gave the airline representatives a very hard time. Eventually, I managed to speak to the same airline representative I had spoken to you earlier.

“Where are my babies going to sleep?! I need baby milk and diapers!”

“You can stay in the nursery over there. There’s a crib inside it so the babies can sleep in it. I will get you diapers and baby milk from a pharmacy outside the airport. Do you have Euros?” she said as she gave me our passports and new flight tickets to Chicago.

My cell phone rang. It was a very long and strange number. It turned out to be the gentleman from the American Embassy.

“I made some phone calls and unfortunately we will not be able to get you out of the airport because we cannot speak on your behalf with the Italian authorities because you are not an American citizen. I am very sorry. Your best option is to try and get an airline representative to buy you formula and diapers from outside the airport and to try and find some kind of room with a couch or something where your babies can sleep on.”

I was very disappointed that the American Embassy was not going to do much for us. As usual, my mother-in-law needed help in handling the twins. Youssef was crying hysterically. I picked him in order to comfort him, but as soon as I picked him up I realized what was wrong. He had pooped again and was obviously in pain due to the diaper rash he had developed. Before looking for the baby wipes and other supplies required to handle the situation, I looked at the counter. I was surprised to find that it was almost empty. There were no passengers crowded infront of it anymore. Then I spotted the airline representative who had said that she could buy me pampers and formula. She looked like she was about to leave. I literally dropped Youssef into his stroller and rushed towards her.

“Do you have Euros?” she asked.

I was very exhausted and fed up and could not accept the fact that we would have to spend the night at the airport and ended up losing it.

“Look at that pile of dirty clothes!” I said to the airline representative. “I ran out of clean clothes for my babies! Even if you buy me formula and diapers, what am I going to do about that?!”

“Every mother should travel with a lot of clothes …”

“Can’t you see how big that pile is?! I have a lot of clothes but it was supposed to take me 24 hours to get to New York, not forever because your airline cancelled our flight!”

I heard a baby shrieking. It was Youssef. I rushed towards him.  

I took the very last set of clean clothes and all of the other necessary supplies and headed to the toilet. After Youssef had calmed down, I headed to the counter again. Only one airline representative - whom I had not seen - before was sitting there. As soon as I approached the counter she said to me:

“Madam, no. My colleague cared about you and tried to help you and you were impolite to her …”

I decided to walk away without uttering a single word instead of losing my temper and embarrassing myself any further.


*** *** **** **


I spent the rest of the day going around the terminal in circles desperately searching for formula and diapers for my precious twins. All I could see were shops selling food and clothing. There was no pharmacy anywhere in sight. I beseeched countless employees at the airport for help, but hardly any of them seemed to care or were willing to help out.

By 9 pm all of the shops had closed, almost all of the employees had left and the terminal became disturbingly quiet. In fact, it became quite scary. I headed back to where my mother-in-law and the twins had been sitting for so long. We had no choice but to head to the nursery and spend the night there.

I called Khaled and told him that we would spend the night at the nursery. I decided not to tell him that we might run out of formula and diapers any minute. There was not much he could do about it and he was already very worried about us any way.


 *** *** **** **


The nursery was basically a small room that contained a crib, a sink and two sets of uncomfortable chairs, just like the ones that were available throughout the terminal. We locked the nursery’s door from the inside. We put the twins to sleep in the crib and then my mother-in-law washed all of their dirty clothes, while I washed their bottles.

We spent the rest of the night trying to get some sleep but it was just so uncomfortable and inconvenient. Falling asleep while sitting upright was virtually impossible, and trying to lay down on those chairs was actually quite painful. But I was very grateful that the boys were sleeping on a mattress.


*** *** **** **


Next morning we waited until the terminal started filling up with people again before leaving the nursery. I started looking for information about our flight. It was due to take off in three hours from Gate 4.

My mother-in-law looked after the twins while I stood in a long queue in order to check us into the flight. After I finished we went to a cafeteria in the same terminal and had some breakfast.

It was finally time for us to board our flight. I was so relieved that this miserable adventure of ours was finally coming to an end. But that was when I realized that my passport had gone missing.

*** *** **** **

My mother-in-law and I searched our two purses, the diaper bag and backpack but found nothing.

I decided to trace our footsteps. I looked for my passport infront of the counter where I had queued in order to check us into the flight and the cafeteria where we had had breakfast. I kept asking people in these two areas whether they had spotted a green passport but no one had.

I went back to my mother-in-law.

“Why don’t you ask the airline representatives?” she suggested. “Maybe she forgot to give it back to you after checking us into the flight.”

I bypassed the queue and apologized to all of the other passengers.

“Excuse me, I checked into the flight around 40 minutes ago but I cannot find my passport. Do you happen to have it? It’s a green passport, an Egyptian passport.”

The airline representative was alarmed. She looked around and then replied:

“No, I don’t.”

I went back to my mother-in-law.

“Stay here with the twins and I will look around,” she said.

When she came back I was busy preparing formula for the boys.

“I looked in the nursery and all of the bathrooms in the terminal but I did not find anything.”

We finally gave in. My passport had disappeared. I finally decided to text my husband. He called me a couple of minutes later.

"You lost your passport?! How?! How did you lose it?! Did you look for it carefully?" His voice was chocked with tears.

"Yes, we have been looking for it for over an hour now. We looked for it everywhere."

"Do you have any idea what this means? You will not be able to join me here in the US in three months! We will have to wait until I start my new job and all of the paper work for my new visa is finished. Then I will have to send you the new documents and then you will have to go to the American Embassy in Cairo and apply for a new visa. All of this might even take longer than three months!"

I was speechless and started crying. I gave the cell phone to my mother-in-law.

To make matters worse, a flight attendant came over and asked:

“Madam, is the other passenger and the infant accompanying her going to board the flight?”

She was referring to my mother-in law and Youssef.

"I don't know.  … Hold on. …  Give me some time," I replied.

She disappeared but came back 10 minutes or so later and kept repeating her question, demanding an answer and insisting that she could not wait any longer, while my mother-in-law and I took turns speaking to Khaled in order to figure out what to do.

“Hopefully, it won’t take that long, Youssef and I can come over now and …” my mother-in-law was saying over the phone but Khaled apparently interrupted her. She then passed the cell onto me.

“This is not a good idea,” Khaled was saying, I’m going to change my employer and move to a different city. The paper work will take at least two months …”

Eventually, the airline representative said to me:

“Madam, I am going to take her off the flight,” and left without waiting for a reply.


*** *** **** **


After that, I was told that I had to go to the airport's police station to report that my passport had gone missing. So I left the twins with my mother-in-law and was escorted to the police station by a security personnel.

In the police station, there were two desks right next to each other with a policeman in uniform sitting behind each one. One of them was a man and the other one was a woman. I was seated infront of the male policeman. A few minutes later, a man wearing jeans and a t-shirt came in and sat next to the male policeman and they started speaking in Italian and laughing. Then suddenly the gentleman turned to me and started speaking to me in Arabic using the Egyptian dialect! His name was Mostafa.

"What happened? Where and how did you lose your passport?" he asked.

"Help! I need your help! I need formula and diapers for my twins and I can't find any! I looked all over the airport and I asked everyone to help me out and …"

"Calm down," he interrupted.

"Please help me. I was told that there’s a pharmacy outside the airport that sells formula and … please help me buy formula from …"

"I will. I will. I will help you. I promise. Let's just provide them with all of the information that they need to look for your passport and then I will help you with whatever you need. Alright?"

"Ok. Ok. It's an Egyptian passport and it has a US visa on it that expires in a month."

Mostafa then translated this into Italian. The police officer said something in Italian which the Mostafa translated it as:

"Where do you think you may have lost it?"

"I used it to check into my flight at Gate 4 and then it disappeared. I probably dropped it at the counter after checking in," I explained.

After that Mostafa said to me on the police officer's behalf:

"Let's wait for an hour, maybe someone will find your passport and bring it to us."

When we were finally done, Mostafa and I left the police station together.

"I was told that there is a pharmacy just outside the airport that has formula and diapers. May you please buy me some for my twins? I …”

“Where are your twins?!” he asked.

“They are upstairs with my mother-in-law. But they are only 4 months-old. So you have to be careful because there's formula for babies who are less than 6 months-old and a different type for babies who are 6 months or older. Oh, and, the diapers. There are different sizes too. So you have to be careful with that too and make sure that …"

"I really don't get all of the different types of formula and diapers that you are talking about. You are going to have to come with me, even though it is totally illegal for you to step outside the airport," he said.

"Oh, I don't want to cause you any trouble. I can just give you the money and …"

"No, no, it all sounds very confusing. Come along," he insisted.

As we walked out of the pharmacy and back into the airport, I could not believe that I was finally holding four bottles of formula and a pack of diapers for my babies, after everything I had been through.

"I can't thank you enough for this. You literally saved my babies' lives. I …" I started crying.

"You are welcome. It is no big deal, really. Now I have to go back to work. Come back to the police station in an hour ok? Hopefully someone will have found your passport by then."

"Ok. Thank you. Thank you very much."

My mother-in-law was just as relieved as I was when I walked up to her holding the bottles of formula and pack of diapers.

*** *** **** **

An hour later I headed back to the police station, only to be told that my passport had not been found. I signed several documents and in the end was given a document that explained that my passport had gone missing at Rome Airport.

"You can use this document to check into a flight back to Egypt and then show them this document at Cairo Airport so that they can let you into the country," Mostafa explained on behalf of the police officer.  

I stood there outside the police station holding that document in shock and disbelief.

I called Khaled and told him that I was going to book us a flight back to Egypt. He was very depressed and I had no idea what to say to him.


*** *** **** **


The first flight back to Egypt was exactly 28 hours later, which basically meant that we would be stuck at the airport for another day and would have to spend the night in that dreadful room all over again. I started to cry and started taking a round trip of the airport all over again asking representatives of all of the different airlines about whether there were any other flights to Cairo departing sooner.

But then I saw something. At first I thought I was hallucinating or that I could not see properly because my eyes were full of tears. Mostafa was standing right next to where my mother-in-law was sitting.

"What? Why in the world? He does not even know her, he hasn't even met her. What is going on?" I wondered and headed straight to them.

"Where in the world are you?! Where have you been? Why didn't you come to the police station?! Didn't you hear all of those announcements?!" Mostafa yelled at me. 

"Announcements? What announcements?" I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh the ones about this flight is about to take off and that one is boarding? I never pay attention to these things, why should I?"

"Because someone found your passport and brought it to the police station two hours ago and they got so fed up of trying to reach you through the announcements and decided to put it aside and forget about the whole thing. But I decided to look for you and … "

I was speechless and started crying all over again, while my mother-in-law kept thanking him over and over again.


*** *** **** **


I went back to the police station with Mostafa. The male police officer showed me a green passport and Mostafa translated:

"Is this your passport?"

I could not believe my eyes.

After that I had to sign some more documents.

As I left the police station, the police officer said something to me in a very firm tone which Mostafa translated:

"Be more careful next time. Take care of your passport and your belongings."

Then Mostafa said something to them in Italian and for the first time the female police officer said something. He then translated:

"I told them that you have twins and that they are traveling with you and the female police officer said: "No wonder she lost her passport.""

She understands because she is a woman and obviously a mother, I thought to myself. But that male police officer has no idea what it is like.


*** ****  *** **


The first flight leaving to anywhere in the US was a flight leaving to Miami next morning at 10:45 am.  We had no choice but to go for it. Mostafa spoke to my husband on my cell phone and told him to book an internal flight for us from Miami to New York, because the ticket would be overpriced if we booked it from Rome.

And so we spent another night in that dreadful nursery.

Once again, my mother-in-law washed some of the twins' bibs and clothes, while I washed their bottles. We managed to get some sleep that night – not because the sleeping conditions were any better – but simply because we were exhausted.


*** *** **** **


We finally got on to the plane that would take us to Miami. We were seated in the very first row of the economy class and in the middle of the plane, so that we could use the bassinet However, another woman who had a baby too was sitting next to us. So we only got to use one of the two bassinets and she got to use the other one. As if that was not bad enough, while the airplane took off, I noticed that the flight attendants kept saying to each another:

"We can't have three babies sitting in the same row. We can't have three babies sitting in the same row."

After the plane took off, one of the flight attendants came over and said to me:

"Madam, we cannot have three babies sitting in the same row because that means that there are six passengers in this row and there are only five oxygen masks in this compartment. So in case of an emergency, there would not be enough oxygen masks for all of you. So I am afraid one of you will have to sit somewhere else."

"Ok, fine. Just give me a couple of minutes to collect my stuff."

As he escorted me to another seat that was around ten rows down, he said to me:

"You do understand that this is for the duration of the flight, right?"


To our surprise, the boys slept for most of the flight and they did not give us a hard time.


*** *** **** **


We spent three hours at the airport in Miami and had to change terminals to board our last plane.

As if we had not been through enough already, when we landed in Miami, we were required to recheck-in our luggage. As usual, my mother-in-law looked after the twins while I waited for our luggage. I eventually found the two bags that belonged to the twins and I, but I could not seem to find that of my mother-in-law. I went over to where she was seated and asked her:

"What color did you say your bag was?"

"It's brown. Why?"

"I can't find it."

She was very shocked.

We then switched places; I looked after the twins while she went to look for her bag. But we never found it.

While we boarded our final flight she kept saying:

"What am I going to do? I've been wearing these clothes for two days now. I can't stand it any longer. When we arrive in New York, can we maybe buy some clothes for me before we go home?" she asked.

"I don't know. I think by the time we get there, all of the shops will be closed," I replied.


*** *** **** **


We finally arrived safely in New York. My husband was waiting for us and he had found all of our luggage, including my mother-in-law's bag. We all hugged each other and started to cry. I simply could not believe that it was all finally over.


© Copyright 2018 Aliaa. All rights reserved.

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