Author: Bas

So I am waiting at the baggage control, trying desperately (but in vain) not to let impatient travelers cut in front. It is like Bulgarians have a strongly developed moral system when it comes to queuing composed of social Darwinism and survival of the fittest. After my luggage has (barely) been checked by customs and/or security, I proceed to the boarding, which is an absolute mess of people forming queues in masses. Boarding service employees are letting people through one by one, but the queue is about 50 people long and an equal number of people wide.

After this queue, we’re shoved into the type of bus only used by airports, which will eventually take us to our plane. Bulgarians, Germans, Dutchmen and other nationalities are herded into the bus like cattle, until it’s absolutely packed. I could swear I was vaguely (but distinctly) hearing sheep noises. “Baaahhh”. After the 1 minute and 20 seconds ride to the airplane, we all get off the bus and continue our previous activities of trying to be the first in queue, this time to go up the stairs into the plane. Roughly 49 people fail out of 50 people fail.

It’s not all bad however. As the airplane was taking off, it was immediately headed into the clouds. There were quite a lot of them, but they weren’t packed very densely, so as the plane was ascending, you saw clouds floating by underneath and around you and we were all treated to a delightful miniature view of Sofia. From high above, this intense city seems quite calm and peaceful.

Then the clouds get denser and turbulence hits the plane. This is also the moment when the seatbelt lights go off and people start stumbling down the pathway to the toilet. “Baaahhh”. At this point the group of young Dutchmen behind me, who seemed to have been in Sofia purely for partying, start to shut up. Finally. Something about young, sexually primitive human beings complaining about the only way to pick up girls in a particular city/country being with utilising money really makes me want to drive toenailclippers down my ears, or theirs for that matter. Of course, like dangerous liquids such as water, they are forbidden on board passenger flights. Tough luck.

Stewardesses start handing out menu cards with overpriced products for the budget airline traveler. Besides a small smile upon entering and exiting the airplane, I manage to ignore the stewardesses completely – which is a first, but it was also the first time that every single one of the stewardesses was ugly. Correlation? Who knows. From Bulgaria to Germany we fly above plains of clouds (cloudscapes) while the sun rises, but that particular phenomenon was hidden from my sight at the other side of the plane. However, this did mean that there was no gigantic ball of fusion shining into my window and touching my face without the protection of some atmospheric layers, so I managed to catch some sleep. About 2 seconds every time to be exact; then my contracted muscles would relax and I would once again wake up to be reminded how uncomfortable these budget airlines’ chairs really are. However I think that with this method, I managed to catch about 10 minutes of sleep over the hour, in my favourite mode of sleep: ‘snoozing’. I have now discovered though, that snoozing is best after a long, deep sleep, combined with the fact that I should actually be doing some horribly boring activity instead of snoozing. Although sitting in the airplane was indeed horribly boring, I wouldn’t call it an activity, so due to its similarity to the desirable, but actually being something extremely aggravating, I would say it’s the complete opposite of the best way to snooze.

That’s right. Trying to sleep on a flight of the Hungarian airline company Wizz Air, is officially the worst way to snooze! The snooze of DOOM!

The arrival went smooth though. Not! Everyone exiting the plane through just one exit. Only 2 people working the passport control. Me being in the line of the passport fascist (a.k.a. the wrong line), which is of course taking 5 times as long as the other. The busride to the central station (or Hauptbahnhof) being completely packed with people and luggage, taking half an hour, and costing more than 5 euro’s. Getting on the wrong train to catch my connecting train. Finding out I was actually on the right train and the guy in front of me had misinformed me when I asked if the train was going to my destination of choice. Then having to wait 2 more hours for the train to Holland. Yet, for some reason, I still like traveling. Actually, I even like this particular trip – besides the fact that it’s creating thousands of kilometres distance between my girlfriend Tsvety and I.

Oh, and the Starbucks in which I am typing this apparently charges 8 euro’s an hour to use their wireless internet. I sincerely hope that the people who actually pay for it manage to download actual diamonds and nuggets of gold through the internet connection. I decided I’d just type up a little something (you’re reading it now) to put online as soon as I get home. After, what I expect, just a little bit more frustration with public transport. Here we go. Let’s aide.