Above the clouds! (If I were a little bird...)

So now we have wrapped the package:

Mr. Schroeder has flown during his sabbatical!

And for the first time in his life, he booked a flight himself.

What can I say: as I expected and secretly hoped, it was:

Awful!!!

It wasn't even about the 'act' itself. The 2 hours on the plane were actually quite good. I had surprisingly plenty of leg room and the seat was comfortable, the plane was on time, the staff was very friendly, and I only had a gut-wrenching fear of death during takeoff and landing.

What I find so abhorrent is this terrible fuss around it. It started with the booking. You had to book a backpack. The ID card didn't even mean ID card, it was so difficult, so difficult that you had to google it.

And then driving to the airport hours beforehand. An airport that is of course far, far outside the city gates.

And then you stand there in lines... at Ryanair, at security, at the toilet, at the passage to the plane, at the end of the passage to the plane.

Then you finally get on the runway... but no plane. Bus!

And the bus was so long that I thought it was taking us all the way to Romania.

Because I knew, feared, secretly hoped for all of this, I couldn't sleep all night before, out of fear, out of hate, out of holy anger.

That doesn't make it any easier on the day of the trip.

As if all of that hadn't been enough, I had to endure the humiliating treatment at security.

A stern-looking man in uniform touched me with his wand in places that I can't talk about yet. This trauma is still too fresh. There were phrases like: 'Undo your belt.', 'Hold still and don't move.', 'Turn around, it will be over soon.'

But.... and that makes up for everything:

The sun is shining in Bucharest!

There's coffee there!

I'm going to bed early and I'm looking forward like crazy to diving into the hustle and bustle tomorrow.

Hello! Bucharest, one more sleep... then we're off! 😇