Day 350: I Am At The Airport (Yet Again)

Friday night (Amsterdam - Liverpool)

Three hour delay (thunderbolts, lightning etc). Petulant brat on microphone drawling out barely intelligible messages about "ice in the sky", chewing something with her mouth open and slamming the phone around like a brat. Stood behind a man (c. 45) on the phone to his Dad trying to organise a lift. Organisation of lift took over twenty minutes.

Listened to another man talking to his ladyfriend:

"I said already the flight's delayed. I told you not to leave until I'd called you. No I didn't do it on purpose. I can't help it that you left and that you're there and that I'm still here. No, don't say that. I TOLD you that... no... no. No. No. Of course I"m not with someone else. The flight's delayed. Why would I like to you about that?" (Phone obviously put down at other end.) "Don't put the phone down on me. I didn't do it on purpose. No, the flight's delayed. Call the airport of you want ....no, I'm NOT with someone else. Well, I'm with Jeff. Talk to him if you want ..." (Continues for fifteen minutes.)

Sunday night (Liverpool - Milan)

Manly Italian lady sitting next to me with legs apart, chain crunching salt and vinegar Snack-a-Jacks in my ear like an automaton. Finished one pack; got out another. I moved. Woman with enormous breasts running up and down crying with a picture of Liverpool FC in her hand. Not sure why.

Monday night (Milan - Amsterdam)

Hot and tiresome. Gigantic Dutch steward attempted to soothe the people sitting in the seats by the emergency exits by telling them that in the event of an accident, they were in a good place "because the smoke runs behind, so you will be able to jump out - but the other people, not so lucky perhaps". Shortly after taking off, we hit some turbulence; three people in the rows near the emergency exits screamed; one threw up.

Plane had not parked before enormously fat man with gigantic moustache jumped up. "SIR. SIT DOWN IMMEDIATELY. I SAID IMMEDIATELY", shouts the steward into the intercom. The man makes a rude sign, involving his elbow and his fist. "NOW. SIT DOWN NOW. OTHERWISE I SHALL CALL UPON THE CAPTAIN."


Tonight (Amsterdam - Milan)

A bad start. We are delayed. "We only have twenty landings an hour, not sixty", the ladies keep saying. Everyone else is behaving true to type: the English are huffing and puffing in that splendidly quiet aggressive way; the Italians are shouting. The Dutch are of course saying "This is bad, but now we must wait".

Tonight, for the fourth time this week, I shall have one small brown roll with mozarella and tomato, a one small white roll with smoked salmon and cream cheese; a cup of tea and a "cookie". With any luck it will be the new issue of the Holland Herald, KLM's marvellous in-flight magazine; but that is a precious treat that I am unlikely to experience more than once this month.

Later, I will check into a hotel owned by Berlusconi for the fourth time this week. I will go to sleep, and tomorrow I will put on a straw hat and watch giant packets of biscuits on legs run around a piazza in Milan.