Watching the baggage carousel at the airport is something I will henceforth be doing with considerable apprehension. After the one at the Sir Seretse Khama airport ceased to revolve without any evidence of my trusty blue case, alarm bells went off in my head.
"Can I," an optimistic voice in my head wanted to know, “Survive without my case?”
The answer from other quarters was unanimously in the negative.
Hair: I like that! And who is going to take care of me?
Feet: Dude! If you think I am going to accept these socks for a second day you have another thing coming!
Torso: This new vest chafes!
Teeth: Survive without your case? Just who is going to brush us?
Chin: Thank God! Can’t think why you insist on bringing sharp blades near me each morning!
"Try the 3 flight," A bored looking staff member said stifling a yawn.
So I tried the 3 flight And the 6. And the 9.
It was well that the Air Botswana staff members rapidly left their offices because the heights of eloquence I rose to left little doubt that I would make an excellent commissioner of oaths.