This text was written last Xmas. Hence the story…:)


Morning kids! It’s Christmas day! Yey for those of you who buy into this Coca-Cola vs. Walt Disney crap.

I was earlier shuffling through Facebook and, thanks to their Memories app, got reminded about my Xmas day back in 2012.

For some multiple extremely fun reasons, on 25th of December 2012 I was on a flight from Geneva to Amsterdam, from where I was supposed to take my flight back to Bucharest.

I remember packing my luggage like a total moron; just throwing stuff in my backpack and never checking my pockets.

First stupid thing of the day was me trying to reach my gate. I haven’t been in Geneva airport since then…but i do hope they fucking changed that glass maze you need to solve to get to the gate, or waiting area.

Basically the whole departure terminal was like a huge open space and from the first second you get in that particular area you see where you have to board. And the first coffee shops. And the smoking lounge. And the restrooms.

But life ain’t fair, is it?

It was pretty early in the morning..like 1-2pm and my arrival in front of the glass maze came after about 2 hours drive from Chamonix (really awesome place, was the first time when i went to a ski resort and didn’t do shit). So the only thing I had in mind, after doing my check-in was to go have a smoke.

So I see the smoking lounge, don’t see any obstruction along the way and I start pacing….almost running. Yey! Cancer! Finally! …And then i discover the first glass wall. With my head. And my ass on the ground. The real wake up call were some kids laughing and though their jiggling voices should have felt really Christmasy, i just wanted to kill them.

Anyways, I’ve put myself together and started slowly walking… between some glass walls…and then a random door in the wall, then some stairs, then again just walls, and then some doors again. Everything while i was staring at the waiting area. And finally, control point. At least this one made sense.

I undress, I dress up back again, I smile and finally get to have my cigarette …and then to board the plane. Suprise! Welcome to the Fokker 70 aircraft.

Such a small aicraft, god. Even in extremly good conditions to fly one of these tiny ones is crap. Turbulences, air pockets, a wild goose passing by…you feel everything. And for sure we did that evening.

Again, 25th of December, winter, going from a pretty high altitude city to one in the middle of the sea. Of course we had a storm. Up, down, left, right….just sliding down, then dropping some more, then we go back up again. Probably the only thing that aircraft didn’t do was to back-flip. And after 1 hour and something of feeling like in a merry-go-round in a weird Hitchcock movie, the pilot says that we don’t have conditions to land and need to avoid Holland. Like..sure, avoid it. Not like this is the flight to Amsterdam or something. Bottom line, we ended up across Denmark, do a lil’bit of tricks there, say hello to the mermaid and head back to Amsterdam. We landed, finally, through clouds, thunders and some weird Italian ladies screaming, with a delay of almost an hour.

Had around 3 hours before my next flight, time that i was planning to spend somewhere in a quite place hugging a hot chocolate. But then, i hear my name in the speakers, pronounced softly and oh so wrong by this dutch coughing voice. I was supposed to present myself to customs.

Having my brain half dead, half still bouncing in the rithms of the turbulances, i get to customs where this huge tall viking police man asks me to sit down. Obviously i wasn’t looking like a new born. Rather like i’ve been recently hit by a truck and i was also half deaf.

“Miss, can you explain this?” i look like an idiot at some packages he was pointing at. Couldn’t understand what he wanted.
“Ah..no. what is that? looks creepy.”
“Those are almost 12gr of Hashish. Do you know where we found it?”
“Found what?”
“Hashish, ma’am.”
“Hashish? Where?”
“In your pocket”
“In my pocket? When?”
“Now! Ma’am please try to take this situation seriously. We have found it in your pants”
“I am serious. I just can’t hear properly.”
“We found it in your pants”
“My pants? My pants are on me; How could you have found them? I have no drugs in my pants”
“The pants from the luggage. Have you been wearing this pants in any of our coffee shops, lately?”

Pam pam…now i get it. They found that crap in my bag. Oh fuck. Wish i had checked my luggage, my bags, my pockets before shipping my ass to the airport… I hadn’t and still don’t have any idea when and from where or how the hell that ended up in my pocket.

“Ah ..yes…i was…earlier…”
“Ok ma’am, it is Christmas, so i will let you go with a warning. But we need to inform the Romanian authorities. Remember, you are not allowed to carry more than 10gr with you.”
“Ah…ok. Thank you!”

Left that office shaking like a leaf, still wondering how that shit ended up in my pocket. Boarded my next plane.

The flight was good and I was getting a bit relaxed, thinking that everything was over when some shitty Romanian Christmas Carols started, received a small Xmas tree and a present from the cabin attendant. It was a tiny plane with the airline logo.

Felt nice, super nice as it turned out…especially when after i said “thank you” i received this amazing reply “it’s at least we can do for those who travel alone, especially today”. Well…fuck you too lady, maybe i’m flying between parties, ‘eh?

I still wish that the flight from Geneva would have crashed.

PS: travel advise, kids. Always, but always check your pockets. You never know what you or someone else forgot in them. Can get you in really deep shit. And yes, do keep your belongings with you at all times.; Not everyone is nice as you are 🙂

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