I have been abroad the last two weeks. I didn’t take my camera with me, so you don’t need to worry, you don’t have to see me in front of every monument again and again. No, I’m going to talk about the flights.
In fact, barely anyone talk about the journeys between destinations, where you can find some of the most interesting stories.
The most interesting flight was, for sure, the first one, from Reus to Pisa. I did the first part of the trip, to the Tuscany, with the Huesca blonde girl. We went to Reus airport by bus and had to wait for several hours there. It’s funny that a slightly big room divided by a partition wall can be considered as two different terminals.
We played cards while we waited. During one of the walks along the so called terminal, we saw a very tall, lonely and interesting looking boy constantly checking the planes’ timetable. We sat close to him and pretended a spontaneous invitation to play card with us.
He happened to be an Italian who spent the night alone in the airport because he bought a different flight from his friends. Apart from the cards, we shared our lunch with him because he was left with no money after the holidays. When we arrived to Pisa ―we sat together in the plane― he gave us his number. Maybe next time we go there…
When the Tuscany part finished, the blonde went back home and I headed for Brittany. That was when the Italians took my toothpaste from me to avoid me brushing my teeth during the flight and let them so shiny I could blind the pilot and hijack the plane.
The flight from Brest to London, the last stage of the trip, had no noteworthy detail. Mainly because they couldn’t have found a convincing enough excuse to take my four T-shirts from me, the only thing that I had in my bag apart from the toothpaste. But when I arrived to London I remembered something I had forgotten: the English obsession for security controls.
The last flight, from London to Girona, was really tedious. I had to spend the night in Luton airport because the plane was leaving to soon to get there by train and it was pointless to sleep three hours in London and then take the night bus.
But there’s one conclusion you come to after four flights in a row.
Someone has to invent as soon as possible the separation between decent people who wants to travel calmly and irresponsible parents who can’t control their children under ten. Segregationist? Of course.