Come fly with me!
I´m safe and sound!
After kneeling and kissing the ground (in my head... I didn't wanna come across as a total weirdo just yet) I can now officially call myself an immigrant in Éire!
The two hour flight was a breeze. I love flying! The taking off and landing with meticulous pressure equalising, me introducing myself to my seat neighbour by drooling on his/her shoulder while I drift off due to dropping oxygen levels. And lets not forget the airplane food and the opening of the well packaged cutleries that´s bound to lead to a very awkward slap in my new found friends face.
A great way of meeting new people!
The airport on the other hand... not on the top of my list. Most outright boring!
The waiting... oh, Santa, the waiting!!! I hate standing in line... and I´m Swedish, I know how to queue!
No, when I want something done, I want it done yesterday.
To add to the insufferable, I´d put myself into a somewhat delicate situation. Imagine yourself this:
Right! I´m at the airport. Norway! Noontime, people everywhere... and I have 300 Euros in cash stuffed down my bra...
Everyone around me is a suspect right about now!
So why cash in the first place? Well, like the honorary scout I want to be prepared for any worst case scenario. You never know, Y2K might show up 17 years too late but well enough in time to fuck with me. So, that´s why!
I left Sweden with the plausible presumption that I would easily outsmart pickpockets by "cupping" my money and just let them go after my bags like any other ordinary thief would´ve (Zandy, you sneaky bastard!)
Even though I was ahead with my master plan regarding this most common womanly safety vault, I was sweating like a pig in this smuggling skein. Why´s everyone looking at me like that? Are they on to me?
Maybe I should have placed the money in a plastic bag before I planted it? It´s getting kind of moist in there. What if I get a discoloured boob?
The keys and the credit card on my right boob side will handle this changing body climate of mine but I might have to rethink this one.
Damn it! Then I´d have to give up my seat, because no matter what the legends say about us swedes being free-spirited, I´m NOT gonna start touching myself in public!
Maybe I can ask the person next to me to keep my seat while I sneak into the restroom and refresh my note bundle under the hand dryer?
I really didn't think this through.
What to do, what to do? I´m one of the lucky few to get to board the plane first if I just stay put.
Did I mention I´m stubborn? I am! Like an old mule... so I stood my ground against the pickpockets. The money stayed cupped and eventually dried in the cold cabin air.
Finally at the airport! Baggage reclaim - check! Raining outside - check! First in line to get a cab - check!
Stephen, my cool, bearded, aviator wearing chauffeur and I took off, chatted about this and that, listened to some oldies but goldies on the radio while all the things new passed me by.
Then, all of a sudden I saw it - my street, my house!
When Steve-o-reno got out of the car to get my bags I, like the Flash, snuck out my wrinkled stash of cash before he could see me groping myself.
I took my bags and handed over a leathery, slightly smudged bill and Stevie-roo he didn't suspect a thing.
We said our goodbyes, he wished me all the best of luck with my new life and he took of into the sunset. What a great way of meeting new people!
So, here I am, finally! Welcomed by my new partners in crime Emma and Isabel.
The bags are in, I´m in, the door is closed. Two weeks of holiday awaits me before I start work and a bucket list to cross off. But for now I'm just gonna breath. I'm free... I´m home!
After kneeling and kissing the ground (in my head... I didn't wanna come across as a total weirdo just yet) I can now officially call myself an immigrant in Éire!
The two hour flight was a breeze. I love flying! The taking off and landing with meticulous pressure equalising, me introducing myself to my seat neighbour by drooling on his/her shoulder while I drift off due to dropping oxygen levels. And lets not forget the airplane food and the opening of the well packaged cutleries that´s bound to lead to a very awkward slap in my new found friends face.
A great way of meeting new people!
The airport on the other hand... not on the top of my list. Most outright boring!
The waiting... oh, Santa, the waiting!!! I hate standing in line... and I´m Swedish, I know how to queue!
No, when I want something done, I want it done yesterday.
To add to the insufferable, I´d put myself into a somewhat delicate situation. Imagine yourself this:
Right! I´m at the airport. Norway! Noontime, people everywhere... and I have 300 Euros in cash stuffed down my bra...
Everyone around me is a suspect right about now!
So why cash in the first place? Well, like the honorary scout I want to be prepared for any worst case scenario. You never know, Y2K might show up 17 years too late but well enough in time to fuck with me. So, that´s why!
I left Sweden with the plausible presumption that I would easily outsmart pickpockets by "cupping" my money and just let them go after my bags like any other ordinary thief would´ve (Zandy, you sneaky bastard!)
Even though I was ahead with my master plan regarding this most common womanly safety vault, I was sweating like a pig in this smuggling skein. Why´s everyone looking at me like that? Are they on to me?
Maybe I should have placed the money in a plastic bag before I planted it? It´s getting kind of moist in there. What if I get a discoloured boob?
The keys and the credit card on my right boob side will handle this changing body climate of mine but I might have to rethink this one.
Damn it! Then I´d have to give up my seat, because no matter what the legends say about us swedes being free-spirited, I´m NOT gonna start touching myself in public!
Maybe I can ask the person next to me to keep my seat while I sneak into the restroom and refresh my note bundle under the hand dryer?
I really didn't think this through.
What to do, what to do? I´m one of the lucky few to get to board the plane first if I just stay put.
Did I mention I´m stubborn? I am! Like an old mule... so I stood my ground against the pickpockets. The money stayed cupped and eventually dried in the cold cabin air.
Finally at the airport! Baggage reclaim - check! Raining outside - check! First in line to get a cab - check!
Stephen, my cool, bearded, aviator wearing chauffeur and I took off, chatted about this and that, listened to some oldies but goldies on the radio while all the things new passed me by.
Then, all of a sudden I saw it - my street, my house!
When Steve-o-reno got out of the car to get my bags I, like the Flash, snuck out my wrinkled stash of cash before he could see me groping myself.
I took my bags and handed over a leathery, slightly smudged bill and Stevie-roo he didn't suspect a thing.
We said our goodbyes, he wished me all the best of luck with my new life and he took of into the sunset. What a great way of meeting new people!
So, here I am, finally! Welcomed by my new partners in crime Emma and Isabel.
The bags are in, I´m in, the door is closed. Two weeks of holiday awaits me before I start work and a bucket list to cross off. But for now I'm just gonna breath. I'm free... I´m home!
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