Note: I wrote this a week ago. I just could not post it until the NYT story ran.
In rare display of in flight lucidity I am awake through a haze of scotch and Xanax. One prescribed and one not recommend with the other. Usually I am not a happy flier. This time I find myself awake, charming and a just a bit flirty as my air hostess hands me a glass of wine and my in flight meal over my reporter as we glide along mid-way between Colombo and Delhi. I managed to pull out a few hours of sleep from my pharmaceutical induced coma before being awakened by Ritika asking if I would like wine with my dinner. Why yes my dear I would like a glass of wine. It was been a trying twelve days and a glass of wine and your pretty smile would certainly wash away some of my aches, pains, and frustrations for a trip that was only partially successful. After several days of asking we were finally given the go ahead to visit the IDP camps that house the nearly 300,000 people displaced by the war between the Sri Lankan government and the Tamil Tigers. We spent roughly 11 hours of travel by car and five hours of waiting before being escorted by a military press handler for a little over an hour of time spent in the camp. Below is some of what I made as the aforementioned press guys screams at me to only make positive pictures. Lovely. For a better idea of the situation see Lydia Polgreen's story here. She's a pleasure to work with it, a much better writer and delivers more insight than I do. I am after all sleepy and enamored with my air hostess.