Notes from the Road

Frankfurt airport now also belongs on the list of airports I don’t particularly like. It’s huge, and the signage is a terrible mixture of the London Tube and Cairo, as if there were someone able to change the signs with a button and were sitting somewhere with a malicious glee and a “haha! Got you now! Hahahaha! And again!”. I joyrided the escalator to the fourth floor – twice – because I couldn’t figure out where the sign for gate E5 told me to go. Swiiiiiiiiiiiiiish. The bag slides another eight inches, impelled by my foot. Swiiiiiiiiish. Another eight inches. At a snail’s pace I creep my way through the line, down the hall, around the trash can and finally approaching the check-in counter. Good thing I’m here three hours before my flight…

The flight itself seems to be filled with a broad mix of holidaymakers, locals (from somewhere in the Gulf, I suppose), with a disproportionate number of unattractive German men (heiratsunfähig?) with youngish Thai wives. But I make no assumptions… Surprisingly, the national airlines of the UAE serves booze for free and had movies on demand. I made it through Sunshine Cleaning and The International. I’ve watched more movies this last week than in the last year, I’m sure of it.