Kuwait

Nov 30, 1977.  Abadon Airport, Iran. 

Just beginning to function after a night on a wooden bench in the transit lounge, relatively comfortable, except for the necessity of hitting the head a few times in response to the last stages of a two day case of the trots. We just barely made it to Abadan: our plan to spend a day in transit in Kuwait required us to finagle so much that we almost got nailed for it. Still, it worked, and Kuwait Airlines indeed paid for our room and a meal at a hotel (which other otherwise would’ve cost a $66 and about $15, respectively)

However, shopping turned out to be somewhat disappointing, with camera prices like New York, perfumes like Europe, and no Kodachrome 64 film to be had anywhere. We bought a Seiko watch each, for a total of exactly $100, and a bottle of perfume for Nicole, and then got the hell out. Kuwait has nothing to see except big American cars and sand. Someone would have to pay me very, well to work there.