Transition Day

It's transition day! So up I got for breakfast, eating my fantastic meal of donut, toast, and juice. How filling! Still – better than nothing, yeah? And then it was off to the metro, to grab a subway to the airport. As far as airport transfers go, this was a cheap one. All you need to pay is one euro on top of the one euro metro fee. Two euro to get from city centre to airport – what value!

So at the airport, I tried to get to terminal 3, which the internet told me would be the one for me. Off I went on my quest for terminal three, around moving floors, escalators, mobile ramps, and other such things. After my quest, I finally reached the most fantastic of terminals. The terminal was closed off.

Of course it was.

Go to terminal two it said. So off I went on a secondary quest, across mobile floors, through moving ramps, and other such wonderous devices that my cousin would be enraptured to view – you think not? I should tell you about the time we saw one of those escalators that you could attach your shopping cart to some day. Not today – but some day.

At terminal two, there was a new sign pointing to terminal three. Perhaps this is where I should be headed? So off I went across more moving floors until – what the GGD?! I arrived at my starting point. I had described a circle throughout the entire airport. O.K. Something was wrong, back to terminal 2. Follow the departure sign – no, now I was at security, needing a boarding pass to get through.

Well, long story short... shorter. I ended up with my boarding pass, not far away, and made it through security without any problems. And then settled in for my wait for the flight. It wasn't so bad a wait. Postcards were written, and emails pre-typed. And then onto the plane I waltzed. Fantastic. I just graduated from Am to Pro on airplane flights. This travel ain't noting but a thang. Not thing – but thang.

However the flight was annoying at parts. But oh how I got my own back. There was a lovely gentleman in front of me who kept reclining his seat. Nice of him, considering that there was not enough room for me to hold open a magazine when his seat was back. This began at an obnoxious point too, before take off.

The flight attendant told him to put it up. He did. We started to taxi. Back it went, up it went, back it went (slamming my knees not once, but twice – it's so nice.) and the attendant told him to put it up again. This would only bring pain later, I was sure of it. But I'd be waiting.

As he put his chair back, I decided to keep reading my magazine as best I could. I did this by holding it at the top of his chair. When I opened it, I may have done it forcefully enough to gust a breeze at his balding skull. And each time I flipped the page, I couldn't read – as it was in Spanish, or maybe Italian. I never really paid close attention to the pages themselves – I may have smacked his head. Passive aggression won the day. Up wen this seat.

But he too was a player. Ten minutes later, slamming back went the seat, further than ever before. Who knew he was showing restrained before. But this was it. It was time for endgame. I would not try to care for his comfort. Up my knees went to their most comfortable position, jabbing right in his back. And as I shifted to put my camera back in my pack (I had to do this, it just happened to work out perfectly) I may have head butted him. It was fantastic. This is how far back his seat was, that me bending over at the waist, slammed my head into him. He was not pleased.

I was not pleased either. I was delighted. And jab, up went my knees, as I unzipped the pack, and he wanted to turn around and glare – but looked around, and noticed no one but him was leaning back. Just him, the jerk-face jerk-a-holic. His seat went back up. I won.

Beside me I got smiles of a job well done from the two people sitting beside me.

Sigh, nothing like a job well done.

Honestly – there should be rules to flights, and two should be these:
1. if there's not enough room to lie down, and it's only three in the afternoon, keep your bloody seat up.

2. if you have the window seat, and people beside you (especially people looking out the window) do not close it. You knew what you were in for when you wanted the window seat. And if you think, as the person sitting beside it, you have rights over it, watch out when you need to use the washroom and the person beside you, blind now to the outside, finds themselves as keeper to the aisle.

The plane landed early, and I was one of the first people to grab my luggage. This never happens to me.

[authors note: A song by live plays over the speakers now. I haven't heard it since my buddy's wedding – which proved to be the best first dance ever. Man, what a good wedding. Best I've ever been to. Just saying.]

Out I walked, without problem, except for the security guard who did a little twirl (seriously) to ensure his dog would smell my bags. Please – who do I look like? Oh right – still... Drugs are bad. Thank you nineteen eighties. Not my style.

Then it was onto the train – eleven euro – and off to the central station. The hostel I'm at, The Yellow, is only a quick walk. Maybe four blocks? And that was that. I was checked in. Nothing terrifying about getting here after dark. What a primo location.

Speaking about great locations, across from me was a pizza place that I had to go to. You pay by the weight, and my god it was delicious. I don't know what was on it? It looked like sun dried tomatoes, but was salty – maybe dried figs? Anyway – I do believe I know where I'll be eating these next few days.

And there's a grocery store just a few streets down to provide me with sweet sweet juice.

So that's that. I'm in Rome. Tomorrow I'll start to wander around, and we'll see how it goes.

As if I booked more time in Madrid than in Rome. Ohh well – live and learn.