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Thursday, February 03, 2005 I approached the main drag just as a taxi passed, the driver spotted my flailing arm and stopped, another couple of vehicles coming to a stop behind him (having no option in a neighborhood of narrow streets). He popped the trunk, I hurriedly began stuffing the body bag into the storage space, conscious of waiting motorists. The cabbie smilingly advised me to take it easy, saying no one was in a rush. I glanced at the other cars, that seemed to be the case, everyone appearing tranquil, patient, though they might all simply have been half-asleep. The driver: friendly, chatty. We talked about working graveyard shift (he liked it -- upside: passengers mellower; downside: being awake for sunrise). We talked about winter in Madrid and other places, about snow, something I would be seeing soon. And then we were at the airport, the fastest, least expensive version of that ride I've ever experienced. Inside the terminal: 5:30 a.m., few people about. Quiet. Shops not open yet, few airline desks in operation. The woman at Lufthansa check-in asked me if I wanted a window or aisle seat. My answer: window. The seat she gave me: aisle. (Discovered after boarding, when it was too late -- #^@%*!!) Hung around the entrance to a news shop until the 6 a.m. opening bell, grabbed a paper and the book of the day. (An interesting Spanish phenomenon -- the two main newspapers, El Pais and El Mundo, offer books, CDs, DVDs at drastically low prices, the idea being that a copy of the paper must be bought to get the coupon for the product. I've picked up a pile of good reading -- in Castellano, natch -- at one euro a pop.) Found myself stuffed into a long metal tube with a bunch of other humans, heading for Frankfurt, me drifting in and out of light sleep, now and then reading, watching my fellow stuffees, staring into space blinking hazily. Flight transfer in Frankfurt: serious security getting to flights destined for the States. Everyone must stumble through the magic metal-detecting doorway, everyone gets a going-over with the magic wand. And then I was on the long, long flight to the States. Long, long, long. A 70ish German woman -- my rowmate, an empty between us, her by the window (once again the Lufthansa woman in Madrid had given me an aisle seat -- #^@%*!!!) -- spent the first 25 minutes reading and re-reading a newspaper looking to be the German equivalent of England's The Sun -- trashy, big on celebrity stuff and the occasional naked babe. Rustling of pages, then a little silence. More rustling of pages, more silence. Further rustling of pages, a bit more silence. When she'd finished with that, she had nothing more to entertain herself with, began talking to me. Comments out of the blue, apparently not caring completely whether I listened or not. By that time, my body had decided it wanted to go relax, go back to sleep, I began drifting in and out, did that for much of the flight, happy to be making up for a night of little shuteye. When it became clear I would not be the perfect audience, she seemed disappointed. Then she adjusted and talked anyway, whether I listened or not. [continued in next entry] ************** Temperature outside the dining room window this morning, 7:30 a.m.: -5 fahrenheit. Temperatures during the day yesterday and today rose into the 30s, maybe even the 40s. Mild for February in these parts. Not that I'm complaining. Madrid, te echo de menos. rws 8:36 AM [+]
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