Having successfully set this panic attack in motion, I then decided that my luggage had been lost when I didn't see it on the conveyor belt at the KTM airport. I rushed over to the Qatar Air agent, who advised that the luggage might be on the next flight, which would arrive about 4pm. More panic! Briefly composing myself, I checked the area around the conveyor belt to see if someone else had offloaded my suitcase. Sure enough, there it was, tucked among some large shipping crates Major meltdown averted. Had I learned my lesson about over-reacting and panicking?
The hotel staff referred me to a health clinic, which advised me that they could get me an emergency supply of the crucial Parkinson's meds. At 7pm, the clinic rep called to advise the pills were ready for me to pick up. I hailed a cab, drove to the clinic, and paid only $10 for 40 pills – an unthinkable bargain in the U.S. On the cab ride back to my hotel, the driver got lost (in my pill panic, I’d neglected to take the hotel card with info and directions with me) so I asked him to drop me off instead at the well-known Kathmandu Guest House in the heart of the Thamel tourist district -- familiar territory to me.
It was a pleasant evening, I had finally taken my long-delayed evening pill, and decided to have supper at the Northfield Cafe. Then I strolled down the street -- crowded with people, motorbikes, bicycle-rickshaws, cars and taxis -- to the bookstore owned by Nimesh's family, and where our friendship began ten years ago. After a good chat with Nimesh's parents (and picking up my formal wedding invitation), I grabbed a cab back to the hotel.