Airport tales

I fly on average 15 to 20 times a year, and it has been going on for 5 years. Before 2001, I was blissfully unaware of what goes on beyond the departure gates. Or indeed before said gates, since I had never set foot in an airport.

I remember going through the gates for the first time in GVA, my dad looking very not concerned his eldest daughter was leaving for Perfidious Albion, for what was originaly meant to be a 9-months stay. I remember finding my way through the corridors, a little panicked by the novelty of the situation, wondering if I had the right paperwork with me. I remember landing in LTN, being reunited with my mates who had flown there earlier that day. Sitting in the sun in front of the terminal, waiting for the coach.

I remember my first flight back home, to LYS, to spend three days with my then boyfriend Le Piouk, who I hadn't seen for nearly two months. I remember the unhelpfull, aggressive staff, the time they took to check people's ID, and the anticlimax of being reunited with the boyfriend, the reality of things not quite meeting my expectations. His hair had grown, a lot, and he did not ressemble to the idea of him I had build in my head during all those weeks.

I remember coming back to LYS, going through security checks, to be greeted by sexy french policeman looking at my passport before saying "Bienvenue a la maison, mademoiselle C" with a wink. Going through the gates, after collecting my exploded luggage, to see all my girfriends there to collect me, showing somehow that things haven't changed even if I left the country all those years ago. Or coming back to Geneva, to see my father sitted on a bench far from the gate, and seeing the little smirk on his face, only indication that he could be possibly pleased to see me there.

Many flights followed, either to go home or see friends, or to go to conferences. Miami airport was an horrendous experience, with unhelpful, aggressive staff. Shanghai was quite pleasant, if not surprising, after a first visit to the loo, and discovering that paper is not meant to be flushed down the toilets, but rather collected, with anything it may contain, in a tiny, often over-flowing bin in the corner of the cubicle. Gl00m ville's airport is just tiny, and embodies the last months struggle, flying up and down the country, to see Dr. A.

Hopefully, after next weekend's move, I should be confined to Gl00m ville and my new lab, and be too busy to fly anywhere, except for a trip to the Glorious Midlands for my viva, and catching a plane for Xmas. The new job should keep me busy for a while before I try to get more conference and free travel out of it. So far, 3 trips are already booked for next year, one being Japan, which I am very exited about.

I can't believe that 5 years ago, I had never been to an airport.

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