I don’t know why (it may be because I was going on no sleep at all, it could be that I hate airports, it could be the waiting in lines, it could be the ridiculous security protocols) but I let myself get bothered at the airport
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We arrived before the Alitalia Airlines check-in counter opened, so we had to wait about an hour for the opportunity to wait in line to check in for our flight. When the counter finally opened, we checked in with reasonably no problems, but for whatever reason, my boarding pass for the connecting flight from Milan to Chicago would not print. We checked with the information desk about this, and they told me it was fine, that I would just have to check in at the airport in Milan to get my boarding pass. Minor grr, but nothing big.

We then proceeded through the security check to get to our gate. There was a mild snafu with my gear, and I had to run things through a couple times before I was given the thumbs-up. That taking all of my attention, I didn’t notice Shayne anxiously looking at me from the security counter. They wouldn’t let her carry-on her jar of Ajvar. Fuck! Now, I know that through the years, many innocent passengers of airplanes have lost their lives due to the liberal use of roasted red-pepper spread as weapons on airplanes… so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Shayne couldn’t carry it on… but I was still a little disarmed. This dilemma presented us with two distinct and nasty choices. Either we ditch the Ajvar (not available in the states anywhere, and the final jar that the family had, and especially gave to Shayne so she could enjoy it in the States), or we stand in line again at the check-in counter to check another bag (by now, not so many people had checked in, and there was a hefty line… grr to the grr.) While Shayne was calmly assessing the possibilities, I was acting all grumpy and pissed. We decided to check the bag, and the wait was not nearly as long as my mind made it out to be. Beyond checking the bag and securing safe passage for the Ajvar, I sorted out the boarding pass issue that I mentioned earlier, and eventually (after acting like a total baby for a while) I calmed down. Many many eternal thanks to Shayne for putting up with my tantrum, she didn’t have to, but she did.

The flight from Sofia to Milan was flawless, but then we had to suffer the agony of the flight transfer section of the Milan Airport. Essentially, between touchdown and your new gate, you need to go through a security checkpoint much as you would find in any airport. I think it’s frivolous, mainly because the only way you can get to this point is to have already been on a flight – which implies that the good folk of Milan International don’t trust the good folk of… anywhere else. Back to the point, there are about twelve gates to pass these hundreds of connecting flight passengers, which causes a ridiculous bottleneck effect. The only thing keeping me from strangling someone with my (following security checkpoint standards) recently removed belt was the fact that Shayne and I were loopy from lack of sleep, and we were making up songs about the people waiting in line with us.

Ugh. Our connecting flight was scheduled to depart at 10:40am Milan time (about 3:40am Chicago). There was a mechanical delay, and they didn’t even start the boarding until 11:00. After various rigmaroles, I would estimate that the plane was airborne by 11:30am, headed for my sweet home.

A flight is a flight, and there’s not much to be said (assuming that there was no occasion for anyone to use the emergency exits, oxygen masks, or seat cushions as floatation devices) about a flight. Due to the aforementioned computer glitch witch delayed the printing of my boarding pass for this flight, they didn’t seat Shayne and I together. Furthermore, Both Shayne and I were seated in row E. For those not familiar with the seating layout on a Boeing 767, there are two seats on the left, then an aisle; three center seats, another aisle, and finally two seats on the right. The progression of seating letters (which, in my opinion, defies any and all logic – and illogic for that matter – that could possibly be applied to the process of designating specific numeration for any item) goes, from left to right:

Window, C,A, aisle, G,E,D, aisle K,H, window.

For anyone keeping score, Seat E is the only possible option of the seven that is not adjacent to either a window or an aisle.

Bitches. I got placed in 42E, Shayne got 40E. Total bitches.

The silver lining to that internationally pain-in-the-ass cloud is that, while Shayne and I did not sit together, I had some good travel conversation with the woman to my left, who had spent the entire last month in Italy with her husband and friends. I told her of our travels, and she gave suggestions for where to go, and what travel guides to use. It was a nice distraction from the seating snafu.