They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but it also true that some places are simply more amazing than others.
One of them is definitely not Rio's airport.
I arrived at aproximately 9.30, my flight was at midnight, so I was sure that I had all the time in the world.
Then I saw the queue... an endless stream of hot an bothered people, waiting to clear security
with various degreese of calmness.
The Brasilians chatting and waiting, the Latin Americans talking away whilst pretending to carelessly look at their watch and trying to hide a little fear that they might lose theflight, and finally the US citizens, unaware that the delays are caused by their xenophobia, complaining out lout about the inefficiency of the airport.
Getting into the a plane for the US is becoming more and more entertaining by the day.
First, before you even check in, you're asked if you're a terrorist. Here I really had to wonder if some froidian slip has ever actually brought an enemy of the war on terror into the steroidic arms of the US justice system.
After confirming that I was not a terrorist, I was asked if anyone had tampered with my bag and so on. No, no, no, no, no. At this stage I was asked for my passport. The dialogue went something like this:
"Where do you live sir?"
"Nowhere, I just left Norway"
"Where is your residence?"
"Italy"
"But your passport says you're Irish..." - could see the confusion mount in the eyes of a poor girl obviously chosen more for her thick us accent than for her bright and bliding iq, and who blatantly takes her job as defensor of the civilized world very seriously.
"Yeah, it's Shengen, we're European, you can move around no problem, we're not that afraid of terrorists..."
"Sir, you cannot say that word, you may spread panic!"
"What? Terrorist? Come on! It's not like I said bomb or anything!"
"Sir, those words cannot be used in this kind of environment!"
Anyway, she let me go with a warning and a fat finger wagging.
I checked in, stood in line for what seemed like an eternety and finally got to emigration.
To make a long story short the fun isn't over.
After you've done emigration you're scanned, checked for explosives, drugs and leprechauns and finally send on your way.
Some fat dude stops you as you're walking towards the gate and asks you if anyone has tampered with your bags since the girl asked you at checkin and if you're changed your mind and have now become a terrorist. A quick no and you're on your way, certain that nothing now stands in your way!
Then the most peculiar thing happens... another fat dude with a thick us accent asks you if you've converted to fundamentalist islam and if anyone has tampered with your bags...
I look back in disbelief at the first fat dude who had just asked me and was standing not 40m back.
Surely I haven't converted in 40 steps... surely they don't think anyone tampered with my bags in the 40 meters that separate the two fat guys and which is completely empty...
Another tired no and the gate is within grasp, you can smell the kerosene of the engine exausts fill the air like a sweet nectar which will magically carry you away from this madness and into the beginning of your trip, but its not to be.
As I hand my ticked to the woman at the gate the heavy hand of a heavy man with one hell of a heavy accent touches my shoulder, and I am informed that I have been randomly selected to relinquish my shoot and for a further security screening.
Fortunately this did not last long, and even more fortunately I was not asked any more if I was a terrorist, because at this stage I m sure 90% of the population has been converted!
One of them is definitely not Rio's airport.
I arrived at aproximately 9.30, my flight was at midnight, so I was sure that I had all the time in the world.
Then I saw the queue... an endless stream of hot an bothered people, waiting to clear security
with various degreese of calmness.
The Brasilians chatting and waiting, the Latin Americans talking away whilst pretending to carelessly look at their watch and trying to hide a little fear that they might lose theflight, and finally the US citizens, unaware that the delays are caused by their xenophobia, complaining out lout about the inefficiency of the airport.
Getting into the a plane for the US is becoming more and more entertaining by the day.
First, before you even check in, you're asked if you're a terrorist. Here I really had to wonder if some froidian slip has ever actually brought an enemy of the war on terror into the steroidic arms of the US justice system.
After confirming that I was not a terrorist, I was asked if anyone had tampered with my bag and so on. No, no, no, no, no. At this stage I was asked for my passport. The dialogue went something like this:
"Where do you live sir?"
"Nowhere, I just left Norway"
"Where is your residence?"
"Italy"
"But your passport says you're Irish..." - could see the confusion mount in the eyes of a poor girl obviously chosen more for her thick us accent than for her bright and bliding iq, and who blatantly takes her job as defensor of the civilized world very seriously.
"Yeah, it's Shengen, we're European, you can move around no problem, we're not that afraid of terrorists..."
"Sir, you cannot say that word, you may spread panic!"
"What? Terrorist? Come on! It's not like I said bomb or anything!"
"Sir, those words cannot be used in this kind of environment!"
Anyway, she let me go with a warning and a fat finger wagging.
I checked in, stood in line for what seemed like an eternety and finally got to emigration.
To make a long story short the fun isn't over.
After you've done emigration you're scanned, checked for explosives, drugs and leprechauns and finally send on your way.
Some fat dude stops you as you're walking towards the gate and asks you if anyone has tampered with your bags since the girl asked you at checkin and if you're changed your mind and have now become a terrorist. A quick no and you're on your way, certain that nothing now stands in your way!
Then the most peculiar thing happens... another fat dude with a thick us accent asks you if you've converted to fundamentalist islam and if anyone has tampered with your bags...
I look back in disbelief at the first fat dude who had just asked me and was standing not 40m back.
Surely I haven't converted in 40 steps... surely they don't think anyone tampered with my bags in the 40 meters that separate the two fat guys and which is completely empty...
Another tired no and the gate is within grasp, you can smell the kerosene of the engine exausts fill the air like a sweet nectar which will magically carry you away from this madness and into the beginning of your trip, but its not to be.
As I hand my ticked to the woman at the gate the heavy hand of a heavy man with one hell of a heavy accent touches my shoulder, and I am informed that I have been randomly selected to relinquish my shoot and for a further security screening.
Fortunately this did not last long, and even more fortunately I was not asked any more if I was a terrorist, because at this stage I m sure 90% of the population has been converted!
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