Ah, the stupid “review” will have to wait.

What can’t wait, however, is the delightful story of the flight home that me and my companion endured. It was an epic of.. epic proportions.

Leaving from Venice wasn’t too bad, given the Italian penchant for tardiness (see: ALL OF THEIR TRAINS). The airport was nice and new, it had a funky name (see: Marco Polo airport), and there was the standard abandoned luggage left in the check-in line. Picture me trying to explain to a guard after the security checkpoint that there’s some abandoned luggage back there, in the Air France line.

Him: “Si - check in baggage at Air France!”

Me: “(sob)”

Eventually, I “en francais?” ‘d him and we took it from there. Good thing, that geographical proximity to France - comes in handy sometimes.

We got to Paris, and we had about two hours to get from our gate over to the ghetto 50 year-old terminal that they’ve relegated Air Canada to once the new terminal had collapsed (oops).

Anyways, we stop for a bite to eat - it IS two hours after all. We finish, and find the place (it’s not easy, signs point every which way) where the shuttle is supposed to arrive to take us to Terminal 1. Yay!

We get there and it’s basically a giant circle made of cement. We keep running around the outside of what feels to be a cruel hamster-like experiment on humans until we get to the Air Canada counter. Phew! 35 minutes to go before the plane leaves!

Wait.. why is the line completely empty and why is there a guard standing in the way of the line?!

We somehow manage to get past the guard and talk to one of the desk clerks who are looking quite frantic, reasons unknown to us. He practically grabs us to his counter and we come to understand that people apparently must be checked-in at least one hour before the plane takes off. As he said, “L’avion est ferme!”

Well closed plane or not, we’re getting on that fucking plane! But not in so many words.

Nice guy that he is, he starts ordering the other check-in people to do things so that we could fit on the plane - because, obviously, since we didn’t show up early enough, our reservations had been annulled. It was actually pretty cool seeing them in action…

Guy: “I need row 36 open!”
Other #1:”Done! Go!”

Guy: “Gimmie seats A and C!”
Other #2: “You got it!”

After we get our boarding passes, he frantically yells at us to hurry, hurry hurry, because the plane is about to leave!

We bolt down the tunnels, cut in front of lines, the whole shebang. I can’t be sure of this, but I think I accidentally conked and kid on the back of the head with my shoulder as I rushed past. If by some divine karma coincidence you’re reading these words, little one, please know that I am sorry - but next time stand on the RIGHT of the freaking escalator, OK!? Geez.

SO: Get to the waiting area for the security. We’re panting like made, hot, sweaty, and nervous as hell. The plane is leaving in 15 minutes! We stupidly get into the line that the sign tells us to go in. Luckily, some guy that heard us saying we were late and going to montreal, tells us that others going to montreal are lining up in that line, and we’d better go there too. Of course.

Obviously, the security gate is one and only one gate, and the guard is some woman who’s making cooing noises at the baby one of the passengers is carrying. This helps our moods.

We get through the security, and RUN for the gate. We hand our pass, go through the tunnel thing and FINALLY, get to our pla…

A BUS?!

Apparently, the plane is not at any terminal - we need to be bussed to the tarmac and climb the stairs. Fine. At least we finally got on board.

Eight and a half hours later, a screaming bratty kid next to us, and an unexpected drop of the plane for 20 feet (and claw mark scars my companion left in my shoulder because of it), we arrive in Montreal.

Yay!

Hey, there’s the carousel - let’s go get our luggage.

tick… 15 minutes
tock… 30 minutes
tick… 45 minutes
tock! 1 hour!

Seriously ticked off at this point. Obviously our bags aren’t here. We talk to the Air Canada baggage guy. Oh look, they’re in Paris!

APPARENTLY, two hours is not enough time for the luggage to have changed over from the Venice-Paris flight to the Paris-Mtl one. Yay! No luggage!

Three days after the flight from ‘ell, my bag is delivered. So soon?…

There are a few more pictures, but I’m too lazy to put them up now.

Soon. It’s night time, and a tomorrow is a fabulous new day at my new university for me. New new new. And shiny.