You know you're a contract pilot in African when...
you are shacked up with several other desperadoes
who are all still owed S&T's by some cheating b@stard or other
and are always moaning about the felectricity or the fair conditioners not fworking afgain
or just the fFrench itself
who all cant wait to get back to the states back to the cutest girl in the world
with bulging wallets (not dollars, only Seefa)
you spend a few days wondering why you were stupid enough to have bought all these expensive clothes in your wardrobe when you know perfectly well you can exist in your shorts and your t-shirt.
and when she finds out you're only staying a few days instead of the promised two weeks, she's gonna divorce you (again)
and your flight bag contains bad photocopies of plates for airfields with unpronounceable names, and maps with only brown on them
and old crumpled checklists with half the items crossed out
and a small pile of gendecs with carbon paper for when everyone from the cleaner to the governor want gendecs
every flight you make you resolve not to again forget to charge the handheld you keep in your bag in case of emergencies
and to remember to chase that oke that still owes you money
and to remember that the P1 side AH is U/S and the left hand fuel guage overreads by 20%
and hope that by the time you land enough fuel will be burned off to enable you to make the mauw landing when you get there