el puente romano: diciembre 2006

First things first: anakngsinampalukangmanokputangina!

Let me repeat myself: anakngsinampalukangmanokputanginatalaga!

For those of you who are not from the Philippines, I just said a very bad word in my native tongue. The reason behind my ire (and near insanity) is a very unfortunate incident that happened this morning. I'm supposed to be back home in Malaga and enjoying a full night's rest in the privacy of my flat and yet I find myself typing these words at Arlanda airport in Sweden. Have you guessed why? Because I MISSED my fucking flight!

Yes, that one thing I thought would never happen in this lifetime finally materialized. My flight left at 6.45 am today and I had stayed up all night for fear of oversleeping and missing the first airport shuttle at 4 am. I didn't miss the shuttle and yet the next thing I knew was that airport staff was informing me that I was sure to miss my flight. Why? Because I was at the wrong airport!

So right now, at 21.36, I'm still here in Stockholm and pissed off on what is supposed to be the worst day of my life. Pardon the word pun in the title but I couldn't think of a better one to describe the situation. All I want to do now is get home.

Apparently, Stockholm has more than one airport. By "more than one," I don't mean two or three but FOUR fucking airports. It so happened that I took the wrong shuttle at Central Station and I was transported to the wrong airport, which was, by some strange twist of fate, TWO hours by bus from the right one.

Truth to tell, apart from my constant and strong gut feeling that something terrible would occur on the last of day of the tour (of all days mind you!), there had been some signs that something would go wrong:

1. The shuttle driver announced that the trip to the airport would take an hour and 25 minutes. When I first arrived, the trip from the airport to Central Station had only been 40 minutes. However, I kind of ignored this detail because I thought that the shuttle would simply do more stops than during the first trip.

2. I was supposed to fly from Arlanda airport. When we were nearing our destination, I kept on seeing road signs that said: Stockholm Skavsta Airport. I mistook Skavsta for the Swedish word for airport because in some countries they DO use the local word. In Norway, for example, there are signs that say: Oslo Lufthavn, and the latter word means airport. I didn't realize that Skavsta was the NAME of the airport that we were going to, and it's located in the outskirts of Stockholm in the middle of fucking nowhere.

3. Upon entering Skavsta airport, nowhere in the huge monitor that displayed all departing flights could I find Malaga.

4. At Skavsta airport, the system is different because everybody, regardless of flights, gets to check in at the same counters. I joined the queue and thus wasted some precious time. When my turn came, the check-in person couldn't locate my booking number in their database and so advised me to approach a counter at the back end of the lobby. Right there I sensed something was wrong and yet I kept my cool. The lady said she didn't believe it was a big problem.

And so there. The next thing I knew was that the lady at information was breaking to me the news, rather gently, that I had come to the wrong airport. There was no way I would make it on time because it was barely over an hour before departure and Arlanda airport was two hours away, even by taxi. I didn't realize the gravity of the situation until much later in the day; I would later get increasingly pissed off, and finally, mad like hell.

Of course, the first person to blame for this incident was myself. I had read about Stockholm's having several airports and did not pay enough attention. I KNEW that my airport was Arlanda. But unfortunately, it's not enough to know which airport your flight is departing from, you should also note which airport it is NOT departing from. Perhaps I should have slept last night so that my mind was more alert and this would have not happened.

Apart from myself, who else was there to blame? Who could have known that I was headed for Skavsta airport? Well, the answer is... the shuttle driver! The ticket that I presented to him before boarding the bus had "Arlanda" written all over it. And there's a different fare for every airport destination. He should have read my ticket carefully and not simply punch holes in it.

In any case, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, within half an hour since that painful realization that I wouldn't go home as planned, I was able to book the same flight for tomorrow. My original ticket didn't include a rebooking insurance, so I had to pay the whole fucking amount again, which was heartbreaking. Throughout the trip, I had been scrimping in order not to exhaust my budget limit. I knew that upon returning to Malaga, I would have other expenses. But all that I'd saved during the past 10 days just went to waste!

After a heavy breakfast at Skavsta airport (I ate a lot with a heavy heart!), I headed back to Central Station. I dropped by the supermarket to buy some food for the day because I knew that at Arlanda, where I had decided to stay until departure tomorrow, everything was ridiculously expensive. So I bought two liters of orange juice, one liter of mineral water, a pre-packed cold pasta dish, a sandwich, some donuts and pastries, like I was going on an excursion. Then I headed with my stupid grocery store plastic bag in hand towards the shuttle stop and this time I boarded the shuttle for ARLANDA.

As soon as we were at the airport, another equally terrible incident almost took place as if the gods were really conspiring against me. Upon entering the vicinity, the driver announced that the shuttle would stop at Terminal 2, 3, 4 and 5. What the fuck? So it's not simply Arlanda airport, but it's even more complicated. I checked my flight booking in search of the terminal number but it was not indicated, so I didn't know where to get off. When the shuttle stopped at Terminal 2, virtually everybody got off so I asked the shuttle driver if that was the terminal for Sterling airlines. As soon as he said yes, I stepped out and made for the baggage compartment to retrieve my backpack. However, I noticed that the shuttle door almost immediately closed and the tires were beginning to turn. The shuttle was leaving with my baggage in it! I lost my cool and ran as mightily as I could towards the front door (it was a looong shuttle) and banged with extreme force on the windows like the Malagueños do, to keep it from leaving. Astounded by the banging, the driver stepped on the brakes immediately and I signalled to him with a hey-you look on my face that my baggage was still in the compartment.

He didn't seem too happy about the banging but hell, I wasn't about to allow another misfortune to befall me. Two incidents on the same day would have been too much for my heart! It's not like I just missed a bus or something, I missed my fucking flight!

And so I arrived in Arlanda Terminal 2 at 12 pm. I think I asked five different people if that was the right terminal for my flight just to be sure and not commit any oversight this time. I pulled a baggage cart and dumped all my stuff into it and then began the long wait for my flight back home.

What did I intend to do to while away 18 hours inside an airport? Well, a lot of things... a lot of pathetic things like stroll around with my baggage cart, frequent the toilet, eat lunch and dinner in a damn corner of the lobby, smoke a lot, whine endlessly and read. I fucking finished a 450-page Spanish novel that I had taken with me for the trip, and it was only 21:00 when I reached the last page.

Towards late afternoon, I got really frustrated and mad about the situation that I felt the need to destroy. I went inside a restroom and broke the flush handle of the toilet seat and flung it into the waste can. I went back to the lobby and realized that it felt extremely good to break the flush handle. So a few moments later, I went to another restroom, took a pee and left the faucet open. Oh, how good it all felt!

It's 00:15 now and I've got nothing else to do for the next five hours before check-in starts. What a lesson I learned today. If you happen to be reading this, make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you! Check your flight details! Otherwise, you'll have to pay a high price for your negligence.

As for me, I will make sure that I'm the first person in line at check-in later this morning. Puchanggala, di na talaga mauulit ito!

It's 1.05 in the morning and I can't go to sleep as of yet. I took a nap a short while ago but I decided I would get up around midnight so I can be sure not to miss my flight early today. It is cold here. And nice. Kungsholmen is lovely and it is my last stop in this backpacking tour which started 10 days ago. Later at 3 am I will have to check out of the hostel. It is so cold I have to wear my gloves as I walk two kilometers from here to Central Station where I'm taking the shuttle that goes to the airport. Or else my fingers would freeze and the joints would lock up like they did yesterday morning.

It's a good thing this hostel has free Internet access. The lobby is virtually deserted at this hour of the morning, it's just I and the wavy-haired hostel receptionist, and some light pop music playing in the background.

A short while ago one female guest in her early twenties just walked into the lobby and suddenly broke into tears at reception. It looked like she was raped or had just gone through something equally horrible. She just stood there for a few seconds in front of the receptionist whose facial expression gave a rather baffled but sympathetic look. It was quite a scene. Then suddenly the guy seated beside me at the computer terminal stood up and approached reception. The crying girl fled as soon as she saw him, because it turns out that the guy was her boyfriend. The still-baffled hostel receptionist is now playing psychologist to the guy, and I'm overhearing stuff like a lover's fight, engagement rings, and a huge sum of money that the guy dished out for a whole bucket of beer that the girl spilled in a bar last week. Then the receptionist asks the guy -- have you been seeing someone else while you're on tour, so that your girl might be angry or jealous? Hmmmmm... weird stories... weird stuff happening in the wee hours the morning.

I'm so sleepy, and my head is spinning...