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Yesterday I completed my quick tour of duty in the USA. I must say, it's good to be back in the city of Belgium, here in Eastern Europe. Well, close enough anyway, right?
Seriously though, I honestly have the feeling that I've been isolated from the world. Despite what they think over there, the concept of World News doesn't really exist in the USA, so I didn't know about the murders in the Marolles, nor the bikie violence in Melbourne. I've been under a rock, and yet the rest of the world heard about the firefighters who died in Charleston.
Having had to endure Atlanta Airport one more time, it dawned on me that Jerry Seinfeld was right about American airports:
Seems to me that the closest thing we have to Royalty in America are the people that get to ride in those little carts through the airport. Don't you hate these things? They come out of nowhere; Beep Beep, cart people, look out, cart people! Look out! We all scurry out of the way like worthless peasants.
“Oooh! It's cart people! I hope we didn't slow you down. Wave to the cart people, Timmy, they're the best people in the world.”
Ya know, if you're too fat, slow and disoriented to get to your gate on time, you're not ready for air travel.
The other people I hate are the people that get on to the moving walkway and then just stand there. Like it's a ride? Excuse me, there's no animated pirates or bears along the way here. Do your legs work at all?
Atlanta wasn't as painful as Brussels though, where due to strike action only one window was available for passport control. The strike was initially only intended for bars and restaurants in the airport, but seems to have expanded. One too many irritating travellers in coffee shops? One wonders. The fact remains that I spent hours in passport control for yet another pithy strike.
On the way, despite being amused by terrified travellers fleeing cart people and amusing signs about firearms, I did meet a single-serving friend on the flight — an international law student “doing Europe” for a month for school. Her first stop was The Hague, so I helped her get to Gare du Midi for her connecting train.
Why is it that flying east-to-west doesn't have as much jet lag as flying west-to-east?
I need sleep.
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