Istanbul, sans Waragi (Part 2)

I soon realized I was going further into terminal A and took a hard left through an open door to find another airport employee. I then asked how to get to terminal F. He looked at me and said, "Bojour". I said, "Hi. I'm in a hurry. I need to get to F48." He stared, blankly and said, "Bonjour, sir." "Yes, yes, bonjour. Can you help me?" "Sir, how did you get here?" I replied, "I walked from A38, through a door and found you. I need to get to F48. Do you know where that is?" With a concerned/quizzical look, he responded, "Sir, may I see your passport?" Oh god. At that point, I knew I had done something very wrong. It was now 9:21am.

He immediately got on the radio and asked for his supervisor. "Sir, please wait 'ere. My superviserre iss on 'er way. She weel be able to help." Eventually, the woman arrived, I showed them the door that was ajar and asked them if they could help me get to F48. They were shocked that the door was open. If the alert level had been any higher, I may not have left Paris. When they realized that I was not a threat, acted alone and just wanted to get on my way, they took my name down and let me go. At this point, I ran back to the bus stand and decided it would be faster to grab the next bus. I got on and anxiously headed to terminal F. It was now 9:33am.

The bus seemed to take forever, but got me to F at 9:39am. I ran up towards gate 48 and tried to get in line for the next security check. "Your boarding pass and passport, please, sir." Oh, god. I vaguely remembered the woman at the Addis airport saying that she could NOT check me in all the way through to my final destination. And since I didn't have any money to pay for internet at the airport, I couldn't do it myself. I hadn't even checked in to the flight! It was now 9:44am.
I ran to the Air France desk across the hall to explain the situation. "I'm sorry, sir. Check-in for this flight is closed." I looked at her. Looked back at the ground. "Please, m'am, I don't have any checked baggage. My flight from Ethiopia was over two hours late. I just arrived. Is there anything you can do to get me on this flight?" She seemed to sense my desperation (didn't take much to notice it) and headed behind the closed door to advocate for me. She returned with a phone number and made the call. Success! I had a boarding pass. It was now 9:52am.
I ran back to the line, got out my laptop and took off my shoes to get through as quickly as I could. "Anyone have liquids? More than 3 oz? " Crap. Waragiiiiiii!!
I had forgotten that I bought some Uganda gin (called Uganda Waragi) at the duty free store in Kampala and carried it with me through Ethiopia. I had wanted to share it with Russ and Charlie in Istanbul, not expecting to go through another level of security on my layover. I hadn't had a problem carrying the liquid on my flight from Addis. Apparently, the French take their security a little more seriously. DAMN IT.
So I left the Waragi at the desk, waved goodbye, shed a small tear and got in line. I made it through security, but not without losing my sunscreen and skin moisturizing lotion as well. DAMN THE FRENCH. First the Waragi and now the sunscreen AND moisturizer?!? It was now 9:55am.
I got my shoes back and SPRINTED to the gate. F48. F48. Where is it? THERE! No one was in line. Crap. 9:57am.
Sweaty and exhausted, I arrived at the gate, the last person to board the plane. Seat 29A. The last row, against the window. I could finally breathe. I was going to Istanbul. Sans Waragi, sunscreen, moisturizer and all my warm feelings toward the French.
Waragiiii!!!  Coppertone!!!