I am in Brussels as a reward to myself for finishing NaNo. Me and my new carry on bag are ready for it although I am normally longhaul girl and it is not often I pack so light. I was excited about zipping in and out of airports appearing to be a person who knows where they are going and does not need much to get there.
My comfy aisle seat had half the under seat room for my new bag so the attendant whisked it away to parts unknown. The flight is delayed. The captain tells us they cannot contact the ground crew who are supposed to de-ice the plane.
We arrive at Schipol at 0900 and my connecting flight is leaving at 0920. The attendant announces it is possible for us to make it. We are in terminal D at the end and I need to get to B. I think it was 100 km between terminals. I am out of shape, fighting a cold, and low on coffee intake. A nice man reminds me the train journey is pleasant. But I am conditioned to be on time. I MUST MAKE THAT PLANE.
I do. They take my new bag on the tarmac and put it below. I cough and splutter my way into my seat and 50 pairs of eyes look nervously at the over weight (disease carrying?) passenger who is gasping for water. Yay!
Brussels. A skyway. I have to pick up my bag from the carousel. Conclusion? Take the train. Be late. It is ok. It took me almost 9 hours to get here. But I am now having lunch at Le Chat Noir getting sozzled. Life is good.