Cork Airport! I’m finally here with a ticket for a flight that’s not cancelled!
It’s 4am right now, and I am sitting at Cork airport. It is starting to look more like a reality that my 6am flight to Amsterdam is going to take off. After six days of unscheduled travels, it doesn’t feel right that I’m about to travel to the place I was planning on visiting. I hate to say it, but I’m almost a little disappointed. Who knows what adventures I would have had if I took the ferry? And now, whenever I tell this story–which I think will be often–I’ll come to Thursday and say, “And that’s the day I got on the plane and flew to Amsterdam.” Then people will ask, “So you didn’t get on the 18 hour ferry? You actually got to your final destination without spending a stolen afternoon in Paris?” I will hang my head and nod. “Yes, by Thursday, air travel was operating at 90% in Europe, so I never got that chance.”
I suppose I still could get on the ferry, but if I don’t have to go on it, it feels like I would just be doing it on some masochistic principle. A three hour flight compared to 25 hours of transportation is a little easier to take. And now I’ll have just about the same amount of time to see what I wanted to see (I changed my flight to leave next Thursday).
The check in desk is about to open. There’s already a line. I better get in it.
