I wake up at 4:45. What an ungodly hour to get up. At least my clothes are nearly dry again, so I pack my stuff and go downstairs. In the elevator I ask a young woman if she’s from Panama like her suitcase pendant suggests. Yes, but she’s not one of the people whose flights got annulled. Something with a bus, but I don’t understand it with my overtired brain.
There are lots of suitcases in the lobby. And a line. Two lines to be exact, one for the buffet, one for the coffee. I have to decide, I can only do one thing since my tram leaves at 6.15. I choose coffee. But the line does not move. The lady in front of me goes to look for another coffee station, but this is the only one. I look around and suddenly it dawns on me what was the connection between Panama, the bus outside I saw from my window and the long lines at breakfast: This must be a group who’s taking a round trip of Switzerland or more of Europe, stopping at a hotel every other night and then leaving at dawn for the next stop of their tour! What a horrible organisation! Having three busses of tourists who have to leave early PLUS a few dozens of people who have to catch a plane first thing in the morning and only two coffee makers.
At 6:13 I ask the receptionist if I could redeem my breakfast voucher elsewhere, but he doesn’t know. So I leave without breakfast or coffee in my system and jump on the train which is just arriving with me. A few minutes later I realise that I am on the wrong train. I already passed 4 stops in the wrong direction. I get out on the next stop and thank goodness, the next one which explicitly says „Airport“ leaves 2 minutes later. At about 6:35 I finally arrive at the airport and have to cross this monstrosity of a building again. Security check is no problem, I just have to get some things out of the bag. I wonder if the airlines give me back the money if I buy a coffee here. But I am not in the mood for a 15€ coffee I don’t even like. So I decide to head to my gate. It’s already cramped. I find a seat and only minutes later one of the boarding ladies appears in front of me and asks in this stiff upper class manner, if the bag next to me was also mine. Yes, it is. „So then you have two bags?“ Yes, I do. „That backpack is very huge.“ Yes, I know and I also know it’s perfect cabin luggage, I never had problems with it, except apparently on a Monday morning in piping mad Zurich! „Please follow me to the desk.“ But of course, they now have to board the First Class, Hon Circle, Gold pooping Champagne sipping folks first. (Those who judge you when you pass them in the front rows of the plane because you can’t pay for the good seats, you unworthy piece of shite?! I think that’s part of the package with those ridiculously overprized front seats – pay more, feel superior and let others feel it.) After that is done, they inform me that the flight is completely booked and I have to check in my backpack because there will not be any space for luggage. I protest since I have to repack everything now. „But you can board now and do that before you go inside.“ Yes, Lady, I will stand in the gangway while people are rushing worse than at the concerts to get in the front row and unpack and pack my dirty underwear. Of course. Not. I put my backpack on the bench and unpack and pack my dirty underwear and electronic stuff while I mutter under my breath like a mad woman who didn’t get her coffee in the morning. Oh wait.
Once I’m done I get a label for my luggage and may board in the third group. At the plane door, I hesitate. Surely it’s a brilliant idea to leave my black backpack unattended near a plane. I wait until someone else puts their suitcase with a label at the place they told me and hope that I’ll ever see it again.
I have a seat in the penultimate row. And I am too nice for this world. I see that there’s a small compartment over my seat and I decide to put my bag in there, but I need one or two things from it first. Since I hate when people hold up everything while standing in the aisle and rummaging in their bags, I put my bag on my seat and step aside. Next thing I know is that one of the business men I have to share this flying tin can today, puts his suitcase into the compartment which is now – FULL. I sit down, put my bag on my knees and curse him and his following three generations. Of course the last two people boarding are my neighbors, at least they arrive together so I just have to get up once. The captain informs us that we might start a little later because they didn’t finish loading all the luggage. I take a little nap because I’m exhausted and coffee-deprived, but when I wake up, we haven’t even moved away from the gate. One short nap later, we made it at least to the runway and another nap later we finally take off. I sleep nearly the whole time, I wake up when we touch ground in Hannover.
One eternity later, all the busy business project people have left the 35 rows before me and we can finally get out of here. One last Grueziwoll or whatever they are saying and I can step on holy Hanoverian ground. To my surprise did my backpack made it here unscathed and my parents arrive to pick me up the second I step outside the building. They brought me a thermos cup of coffee and it is the best caffeine-containing thing I had since the iced latte in Barcelona on Thursday afternoon.
An hour later we arrive at my house. I check my watch: 26 hours from closing the hotel room in Zaragoza until opening my front door. After I reconciled with France over their Arde fan account a while ago, I decide to grant Switzerland the title of „La puta Suiza“. God knows they deserve it after this trip.
