Me, Croissant, and Egypt

I wanted to go to Egypt, where I’m nobody. I really wanted to leave New York, where I felt like I wasn’t getting enough time to myself, or enough separation from the incessant who’s who, why, what have they accomplished? vibe around town. I knew, too, that in Egypt I might have the great fortune of swimming in the calm, nourishing waters and ever-dependable kindness of my Egyptian best friend’s family. (Her grandmother recently encouraged me to write a book and suggested I call it, “The Guest Who Overstayed.” Tata, this article is for you.) So on November 2nd, I booked my flights to Cairo.

I came to Egypt on January 7th (read on, because my life lowkey got insurrected). I planned a three-week trip to visit my Egyptian best friend, who moved here from NY last February to focus on painting.

When I booked the 18 day trip, I remember thinking, "Wow, what a long time to be gone.” But it felt right.

And of course, there’s my pug, Croissant Brigitte Macron de Jenkins (AKC registration number: TS68643001. Clock it, dear). I got him at the beginning of December when he was two and a half months old, fully aware of my upcoming trip abroad.

After some quick research, I learned that I could add a dog to my reservation for 300 dollars, that as long as he had a rabies vaccine, microchip, and standard parasite prevention regimen, he could come to Egypt, and that it appeared that his young age might actually make the whole thing easier. At four months old in January, he would certainly be under the 8kg maximum travel weight, and he would be in his “prime socialization window”—the period when a puppy’s developing brain is neurologically primed to acclimate to new experiences. Everything was working out.

Since I have high hopes for myself and have an addictive, sometimes spiritual relationship to being in planes, being abroad, and just generally getting away, I wanted Croissant to be very comfortable traveling. I actually jumped at the idea of normalizing an 11-hour international flight for him. I feel like my dog could go to space now, if need be.

But why did I get a dog if I was going to Egypt? Croissant entered my life like a prophecy. I was walking in Williamsburg in November, straight up, no joke, a month after the loss of my brother to suicide. (Funny people can be going through the unimaginable).

I’ve buried (damn seriously, I intended no pun, but what can you do? Haram…) the lead. The fact that my brother’s death lies this deep in the article is my attempt to lead with humor as he always did. Grief was a huge part of my calling to Egypt. In case you’re unaware, Egypt is world-renowned for its monuments to the dead (called "pyramids").

So, I was walking in Williamsburg in November, and I thought to myself, maybe I should get a dog? I think contemplating getting a dog in Williamsburg is similar to going to your ex to talk through the merits of getting back together. Williamsburg is to dogs as the Dominican Republic is to Brazilian butt lift procedures.

I don’t exactly remember how I settled on a pug, but the idea just stuck. I also gave myself the grief permission slip to take a one-time deviation from the die-hard ADOPT DON’T SHOP pet policy I swore to at nine years old. Of course, pugs look like croissants. Would you believe that name was the first idea? Considering I’m a gay comedian who loves France, what is a more appropriate pet than a living, breathing croissant who can wear miniature outfits?

In December, I was growing increasingly more excited and confident about my and Cro’s (that's what we call Croissant) travel plans. I knew Egypt would be good for us. We would spend the first week of the trip in a green oasis outside Cairo, by the pyramids. Croissant gets lots of attention because of his looks—almost every attempt at potty training him outside in Williamsburg was interrupted by someone wanting to pet or take a selfie video (what are we doing, guys?) of my cute pug puppy. The suburban desert outside of Cairo is a wonderful place to just let a pug be a pug: to run around, potty train, and enjoy the calming rhythmic sound of an evening call to prayer.

We went to the vet to get a very expensive USDA Pet Health Certificate and Certificate of US Rabies Vaccination (both of which were FedEx shipped to and from Washington to be embossed with an official USDA seal). At the airport, checking in for our EgyptAir flight, I presented all the paperwork and checked a literal trash bag with a folded-up dog crate and a dog bed inside. They were kind enough to put a priority tag on my trash bag. The best part of flying EgyptAir out of the notoriously decrepit Newark Airport Terminal B is that the three agents working the desk are the same people who, in 20-minutes, become the gate agents managing the boarding of the flight. They remembered Cro and treated him with the same nonchalance.

I bought the in-flight wifi and used it to get back to lots of unread texts, and importantly, to text a crush. He puzzled me by responding with a completely non-sequitorial joke about how I finished too quickly. Anyway, I had this idea that I would come back from Egypt only better than before, so why not spend a little of the confidence derived from my future swag and rizz on my current crush. This is how the credit economy works, I believe.

Two things occur to me now: 1.) I spent my flight to Egypt imagining a confident future self, and yearning for connection with past you’re-not-listening-to-me-but-I-want-yous, and 2.) I haven’t yet gotten to the part about how I got stuck in Egypt. Stick with me…

On January 20-something, there was a blizzard in NYC that canceled my return flight on EgyptAir. I was looking at other flight options, and they all had layovers—one with a layover in Paris, another through Marrakech, another via Istanbul. Of course, the question becomes: Are you allowed to take a dog on an international layover through any of these airports? Short answer: no. Actually, it was in asking that question that I learned of the law that says dogs under six months of age cannot enter the United States. Well, I have to admit, Google AI found the law for me.

It said something like: “You may be able to take your dog on an international layover, but it's important to check the local laws. First, make sure you have all the requirements for entry into the United States: dog must be six months of age, dog must have…” And I was like, hold the telephone.

Two options emerged: lie about Croissant’s age on the CDC importation form and bring him back to NY the next available direct flight (layovers were decidedly off the table), or, stay in Egypt until he turns six months old in March.

After a few calls to friends, and lots of overwhelmed-shutting-down-listening-to-a-song-feeling-ready-to-face-it-again, I made the decision to stay in Egypt until March. EgyptAir, in consideration of their cancellation of the January 26th flight, accepted my unusual request to be rebooked on the same flight March 11. The snowstorm in New York began feeling like a sign for me.

Sitting alone in my Airbnb, thinking about how I don’t know what to do with myself (a familiar feeling), but knowing only that I want to be a comedian, I turned to the project I’ve been working on for a while now: trying to package up my personality and humor into a Reel or TikTok because I believe that is how the industry works now. We live in a sick and broken economy, and I never expected this to be how to use my Yale degree, but allegedly, this is how you get an SNL audition, which also feels like a broken goalpost on the crumbling field of the comedy industry. Anyway.

That reel went viral. Which is also why I was asked to write this article.

Of course, I let the large public approval and positive reception in to help wash away my indecision. I’m a democratic person. I did let a viral video give me the confidence to stay in the Middle East, AMA.

It was easy to stay. Cairo is charged. Something I've learned is that almost anyone who has migrated to Egypt first came here to visit a friend.

I have spent my time here learning Arabic, meeting new people, allowing myself to be completely untethered from the expectations and obligations of my New York life. I kind of had to leave the life I’ve built for myself to properly spend time being alive with myself. Slowly, day by day, two and a half months in Egypt began to feel like no time at all. I hope I can remember to simplify things in New York. This essay might have changed in tone to be more tender. Wallahi, I am just trying to speak from the heart.