You’d imagine the idea of a 2,5 hour wait at arrivals in a small airport a literal nightmare.

You’d imagine just right. After staring into the arrival information board for sixty minutes you know she’s not gonna be on that already very delayed flight you hurried in for. The next possible flight is already more than 1 hour late. I continue glaring. I never leave my post. I’d make a good soldier I guess.

Fortunately I possess the ability of foresight for worst case scenarios and was well prepared. I just never thought worst case would actually happen. Expectation versus reality bites.

My plan to relax with my Macbook went terribly wrong. It took less than 3 minutes from that I was online until I was chatted up by a severely unsober man from Örebro who suffered from acute human interaction since he mumbled “Am I disturbing” while moving my jacket, handbag and scarf to sit next to me.

I should have known better. He asked me to watch his bags while visited the gents room. Asserting me he was not a terrorist. I promised him the same, that neither was I. He didn’t really get it. That was a clearly a first sign.

For 2,5 hours I observed people moving about the terminal. Taxi drivers loitering around with little signs in their hands. “Nilsson.” A middle-aged couple munching on homemade sandwiches washed down with a shared 50 cl  strong apple cider. Mothers threatening their kids to leave them if they didn’t visit the bathroom before checking in. Tear-filled reunions and red eyed families arriving from uncomfortable flights with too little sleep.

And then my mother arrived.

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 14th, 2010 at 1:37 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.