On to Italy

I’ve been flying/traveling for over 24 hours and have 2 more flights to go before I’m to Venice where my lovely boyfriend is picking me up.  We will be traveling 50 minutes north to the small village of Pordenone, Italy where I’ll call home for the next 3 months (unless I can finagle a way to stay longer).  My flight plan has led me from Sioux Falls to Chicago; Chicago to Philadelphia; Philadelphia to Dublin.  Soon I will be boarding my 4th and 5th plane to finish my journey—Dublin to Amsterdam; Amsterdam to Venice.  That is 5 planes in 2 days, which got me muttering to myself (terrifying the child next to me) “I hate flying, I hate lines, I hate waiting on planes, I hate people, etc.”  Then I thought “Who does like flying?”  

You get to the airport early (the designated 2.5 hours they suggested for international flights) and find that the attendant for your airline won’t show up for another 20 minutes “or so”. So you wait.  Then you wait in line to check your bag (if you are into that kind of thing–which I am) and get your ticket.  Then you wait in line to go through security.  Then a little Irish girl with muted brown hair and glasses pats you down and asks, “Do you have anything sharp on you?”  

“Only my wit…” [insert your awkward smile]. She looks at you and brushes her hands inside the sweaty waistband of your pants and says, “I picked you random is all.”

After you’ve sweat some more because being patted down makes you second guess whether you’re a terrorist or not (you’re not, but you get paranoid that someone thinks you are) you then go sit at your gate and wait some more, trying to decide if you should buy coffee or not, depending if you want to sleep on the plane. Once you’re on the plane you wait even more.  Taking into consideration whether your plane needs to be de-iced or if the tow truck that taxis you to the runway breaks their “tow board” and you have to wait for a new truck this could take an extra 30-60 minutes.  So you’ve now been at the airport for 5 hours and you’re not even in the air!  Finally, you start to murmur, “Get this bird in the air. Get this bird in the air”. You’re not sure why you’re referring to an airplane as a bird, but it was probably in a movie. Then you hear the telltale rumble as the engines roar to life and with a barrage of noise the bird is in the air!  Your excitement, however, is ruined the moment the person next to you lets out the most horrible noise in the world–a cough that sounds pre-pneumoniac.

Therefore, it is only reasonable to conclude that sadistic masochists can be the only people who enjoy flying.

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