The day before we were supposed to leave, our neighbourhood was set on fire. For those of you who don't know, I live in an area that had only been recently developed, and it is bordered by acres of forest. A few years ago, hurricane Juan took down a lot of trees, and I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

Murphy's law states that anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and 12 hours before we left, I believed it. At its closest point, the fire was less than a kilometer away, so my family and I all had evacuation bags packed, just in case. We went to bed hoping the fire wouldn't head toward us, because they had stopped fighting it for the night.
By the time I woke in the morning, the fire had moved further away, and it looked like things were going to be alright, for us at least. Then, about an hour before we were supposed to leave for the airport, we got a call telling us that Uganda was barring entry to citizens of "swine-flu infected areas". Since there had been cases in Nova Scotia, my Dad and I became concerned that we would fly all the way to Uganda only to be turned away at the border. Quickly, one of the women on our trip arranged for her husband, an infectious disease doctor, to write us an official letter saying that we were swine-flu free. We hoped they didn't ask, but if they did, we hoped it would be good enough.
Once we got to the airport, we were joined by a few more members of the team. We went through the gate without a hitch, passed through a hallway with nifty colour-changing lights, and sat, and waited. We ended up sitting there for a while, because our flight was two hours delayed. We didn't have access to internet, and had no way of knowing what was happening with the fire.
Finally, our plane was ready for boarding. As we were preparing for takeoff, it began to rain. We took off, no longer really concerned about the fire because, in Halifax, rain lasts the whole day.
We were on our way.