Monday, 6 December 2010

Paper Planes

If you don't happen to be Spanish, you might not be "au courant" of the recent events that have been shaking my country: last weekend, just before one of the most important holidays of the year (there are lots of holidays in Spain, yes.), 100% of Spanish air traffic controllers decided to "fall ill" at exactly the same minute. As this is not a political blog, I won't go into the details of the matter (stuck tourists, thousands of people who had been saving up for a holiday unable to fly, state of emergency declared, the army taking over etc etc etc), but I can now officially say I think air traffic controllers (at least the Spanish ones) are the meanest, most selfish, most beastly little creatures I could ever imagine.
This air traffic controllers bussiness comes as the cherry on top of the cake: flying nowadays means having to queue for ages in airport check-ins and standing nearly naked in front of everyone whilst your bra keeps beeping as you are being searched. It also means dying of boredom in waiting rooms surrounded by rude bussinessmen in shiny suits, having to pay 10 euros for a packet of peanuts and sitting for hours next to hollering babies. Does anyone remember when planes were glamourous and comfortable, when people used to get complimentary glasses of champagne and elegant, fur-covered ladies as flight companions? Now it's worst than taking the tube. I really think flying is getting obsolete... From now on, whenever I can avoid planes, airports and of course air traffic controllers, I will. Instead, I'll choose to be treated as a human being; I'll choose the train.

... Or maybe even a ship. Anything for a fun, exotic trip. Bye airports, bye planes. Bye bye air traffic controllers.


  1. Recuerdo aun mi primer viaje en avión, mi madre me decía:
    -Tenemos que ir arreglados!
    Vamos, íbamos como se suele decir en aquí, "de pera en botón" como si fuésemos de fiesta.
    Tiempo hace, allá a finales de los 60, mi madre estudiaba en Roma, en el mejor instituto de la ciudad, el reservado para los hijos de los diplomáticos.
    Aun recuerdo como se vestía, peinaba y maquillaba para ir avión. Recuerda una vez, la última cuando se quedó definitivamente, que se había puesto las mejores galas, y cuando aterrizó en Santiago de Compostela, lo 1º que pisó fue un charco de barro, presagio de lo que le espera en los años siguientes, el anti-glamour que nos caracteriza a los españoles o el pseudo-glamour que algunos nos quieren meter por los ojos!

  2. Oh ce que t'as raison... j'adorais l'avion, et maintenant depuis l'époque easyjet c'est devenu une crise de nerfs à chaque voyage, entre les bagages, la sécurité souvent insupportable, etc. etc...
    Solidarité à l'Espagne malgré tout!


Thanks for your lovely comments.