Monday, May 31st

Fine

Somewhere across the Atlantic Sunday turns into Monday. I spent the night watching movies. A re-watching of “Up in the Air” was spoiled by very poor over-dubbing of all the strong language (drawing a lot extra attention to the swearing one wouldn’t have otherwise at all). They also altered the livery of all the aeroplanes shown by replacing the lower red stripe of the American Airlines paint scheme with a green one and removing the logos.

We arrive in Frankfurt a bit early. They have modified the airport so that if you arrive from non-Schengen, you have to go through customs first. Needless to say, there are endless queues. Since you also have to go through a security check to get into the Schengen parts, I instead leave the security area and go down to arrivals where Lufthansa’s arrival lounge is. The idea behind that is to offer you a shower and breakfast which I think is one of the best ideas they ever had. The spiritual effect of a hot shower after a nine hour flight is amazing. Thusly improved, I can even deal with the Frankfurt security check which on this Monday afternoon is a nightmare. Long queues even in the so called Fast Lane because of good old German thoroughness in screening the bags. The lounge is full and noisy. Frankfurt really becomes ever so much worse.

The Zurich flight, of course, is delayed. I don’t think Lufthansa has ever done a Frankfurt to Zurich run on time. But it is only fifteen minutes, so actually no reason to complain. Of the flight itself I don’t remember anything as I am asleep. Second bag in Zurich, so I even make my train connection to central station. As I come up the stairs there, a tram is just rolling into the stop. That’s new.

And so, eventually, I haul my overly heavy bag up the stairs and turn the keys in the door. Future, here I come.

A million miles of vagabond sky
Clocked up above the clouds
I’m still your man for the roaming
For as long as there’s roamin’ allowed

There’ll be a rider
And there’ll be a wall
As long as the dreamer remains

And if it’s all for nothing
All the roadrunning’s
Been in vain

— Mark Knopfler, All the Roadrunning