"Sir, the plane has arrived at it's destination.  It's time to get off, now." said a young stewardess to a man seated towards the rear of the plane.  
"Not now," Jackson P. Dubois replied in an irritated tone.  "I'm sleeping."
"Sir," the woman insisted, "we have another flight to make.  You have to leave now."  
Jack turned over in his seat, clearly ignoring the woman.  A response to which she violently poked him in the ribs.  "Now!"
"Fine, fine, I'm getting up." Jack grumbled, picking up his bags and making way to the ramp.  "You're worse than my mother."
Outside the plane now, Jack's sleep filled eyes tried desperately to adjust to the bright desert sunlight, to no avail.  It's was an altogether painful experience.
[i]Where was I?[/i] Jack wondered in the mean time, struggling to remember what it was he was doing.  There were people on a plane.  Had he gone to Egypt?  No, that wasn't right, that was several years ago.  The air was too dry for it to have been South American, so Mexico was no good either.  "Oh, no, not the Saudis again.  Hey, you there!" Jack shouted at the nearest people to him, a small cluster of teenagers with duel disks.  "Remind me where we are."