It takes a lot of talent to buy a new pair of shades that fits my prolonged face and rather (for a lack of a better word) charismatic nose.

It takes even more talent to lose them the next month on the Riyadh airport.

And the amount of talent required to even start trying to find them is close to infinite.

Yet here I am – standing in the middle of the Terminal 1 of King Khalid International Airport of Saudi Arabia like a talentless musician who is about to start his first concert. It has been one week since I lost the glasses, the probability of finding them is virtually negative, and I am scanning the environment for ideas on how to even start looking for them.

The environment is bathing in the usual Arab peninsula vividness – couple of families with laughing and/or crying kids chirping excitedly about their upcoming trip to Dubai, Pakistani guys in a beige shalwar qameez watching you silently with their deep brown eyes, an odd Philipino lady with a luggage that would barely fit in a ferry, and the occasional GC (Generic Consultant, typically a western male or female in her late twenties or early thirties with a tired face, wrinkled suit, and an worn&torn Tumi handbag. New entrants to the region also tend to lug around a small suitcase as they are still enjoying the Sunday early morning and Wednesday late night fights about who gets the privilege to put the luggage into the overhead compartments of the hopelessly crammed A320s and 737s).

Luckily for me, Riyadh is taking long and brave steps towards improving their level of services. Yes, the boarding pass tourniquets are not working properly yet (as they haven’t been for the past ~3 months) and passport control officers are sometimes seen struggling with prioritization issues (check passport or finish watching the youtube video on his phone), but the country really is changing.

All it needs is a bit more time.

Which I don’t have, as my flight is leaving in 15 minutes. I swiftly approach the client services desk with two Saudi ladies. Their chubbiness is obvious despite their plus plus size abayas. As I approach them, their eyes are smiling and they address me with a cheerful “Marhaba!” (Welcome).

A give them a smile back: “Hello, I was wondering if there is any lost and found place somewhere around here? I lost my sunglasses last week and I would love to try and find them.”

“No sir, there is no such place on this airport!”

No, I will not give up that easily.

“Uh… okay, so you don’t have a place with lost items?”

She opens her eyes as though she has an idea and she opens a drawer in her desk. She quickly sweeps through a bag of wet tissues, keys, a lighter, and a small purse. She looks at me with a cheerful “Sorry, not here!” and her eyes continue to smile at me.

“Are you sure there are no more places on this airport where we can take a look?”

“No sir!”

“So, that’s it?”

“Yes sir, I am truly sorry!”

I thank her and turn around.

No, I will not give up. I still have 10 minutes left and there must be a way. Next potential station, the security check. I walk briskly towards a guard who is heavily busy with being idle.

“Hello, I’ve lost my sunglasses. Can you help me?”

The guard looks at me with a puzzled look and replies with a straight “No!”

Okay, I’ve to admit, I didn’t expect this kind of a reaction. Yet this wouldn’t be the first miscommunication I ever had in this region. I regain my poise, smile a bit, and try it again.

“I. Have. Lost. Sunglasses. Help. Please.”

The guardman opens his eyes a bit and I catch a glimpse of understanding. He replies with a firm “No English! No help!”.

No my friend, I will not give up this easily.

I approach a different guardsman expressing the same level of idleness. I try to learn from my mistakes and thus change my strategy this time. I smile and open the discussion with a really slow “Hello, do you speak English?”

The guardsman looks at me and replies with a firm “No.”

Well, the quality of customer handling training needs to be improved, but at least the training division has managed to unify the behavior.

No, I will not give up this easily.

Despite his protesting look, I’m locked on my target. I firmly believe in the potential of this human being. I continue with carefully articulated “Lost. Sunglasses. Help. Please.” while creating a meticulous puppy eyes look (I catch a glimpse of the reflection of my face in the nearby chrome pillar and I *know* that my expression is adorable. This can’t go wrong).

“Me. Not. He. Help.” The guard points finger to a different guy sitting behind the X-ray machine, intensively playing with his smartphone. From my experience, a great number of people tend to solve problems by simply redirecting the flow of their source in random directions without a clue if that direction is relevant or not.

The area around the X-ray machine is typically off-limits to passengers, yet there is no other way than to blatantly approach the guard – he is ignoring everything and everyone around and it’s not my personality to shout at people. Especially at an airport.

I approach the guard who suddenly jumps up with a bewildered “WHY YOU HERE!”

Last 10 minutes of my training guides my next steps well. I choose a direct “I. Lost. Sunglasses. Help. Please.”

The guard points at a random box hidden under the conveyor belt of the X-ray machine. “There.”

Well well. Took me only quarter an hour and 3 people to find the official lost and found section of the whole airport. Or, at least what a lost and found section what would like if you would crumble it into one small grey plastic box.

Socks, neckties, wallets, batteries, keys, pens, covered in 3 inches of dust.

And in the middle of this goo of randomness, my sunglasses.

Easy. All one needs is a bit of patience.

And talent.