Tag Archives: Airports

Running for the plane in Sicily!

A story of anxiety, hilarity, and near heartbreak.

Sometimes even the most seasoned traveler – the traveler who has been in too many airports to count, has flown in more airplanes than you could imagine, and could probably go through a security check line in their sleep – sometimes even that traveler can fuck it up.

On this particular morning in Sicily, we woke up with the sunrise; it was lovely. We prepared ourselves for our travel day. We would leave Letojanni, take the train to Taormina, transfer trains and head to Catania. At Catania central station, we would take the bus to the airport and get on our flight at 1:10pm. Big day! We packed up and left our beautiful Airbnb. I did my checks of the rooms, and we hadn’t left anything inside. I was messaging our host to thank him as we walked out of the apartment, and as soon as I closed the door, I realized my jacket was inside. No!!! We had just locked the keys inside, so there was no way to get it. We looked under the welcome mat, in the BBQ, and under every plant for a spare key, but to no avail. I messaged our host, and we agreed he would just send the jacket in the mail.

Defeated, we walked quickly down to the train station, only to discover, of course, that we had missed our train. Damn! The next train to take us to Taormina was in an hour, so we decided to bus there instead of waiting. I stepped off the bus at the Taormina bus station at 10:15pm, and asked the info lady how to get to the airport. She informed me we could take the bus that would arrive at the airport at 12:10pm. Our flight was at 1:10pm. It would be tight, but it was better than a €90 cab ride, right?

On the bus, driving. We drove until 12:10pm, and the bus stopped. At Catania central station (not the airport, as promised). I really started to sweat. My stomach did a backflip. The next 15 minutes was the longest 15 minutes ever. Our bus arrived to the airport at 12:29pm.

We found the check-in desk and stood in a short line that was taking WAY too long. I interrupted the four, middle-aged Italian people in front of me and asked if I could go in front of them. They looked at me and in very broken English asked, “Where are you from?” I responded, “Canada…?” The man looked shocked, “Oh no… you can’t get there,” he said and pointed at the check in gate, “wrong place.” Bless him. I don’t need to fly to Canada from here! I smiled and just walked in front of them to the desk. I pointed to my phone and showed the lady the time of our flight. Her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw that boarding for our flight began two minutes ago. She worked quickly and checked my bag lightning fast. We ran to security and navigated through the ridiculous, snaking line up to the security gate.

Michael and I are both the traveler who has been in too many airports to count, has flown in more airplanes than you could imagine, and could probably go through a security check line in their sleep, so we breezed through security. Belts off, change out of pockets, boots off, computers out. We went so fast, you could see the wind flutter in the hair of the security officers. We went so fast, time seemed to stop. We went so fast, we ran right past our gate. Right past gate 10, where they were calling our names over the intercom.

We figured it out after we ran down two flights of stairs and were told by some airport workers to go back upstairs. We arrived at gate 10, sweaty, breathless, and hopeful. The woman smiled and picked up the phone and made a call. The other lady took our passports and told us to breathe. We made it!

A Funny Story from an Airplane

January, 2014


The taxi dropped me off at the international departures gate and I joined the throngs of white people in the line to check in. I said to Eka, the cabbie, “so many white people!” He laughed agreed that there were a lot of white people.

I said farewell, and now I wait.


Something you need to know about me is that I get really riled up when I don’t get a window seat. First of all, I love to look out the window and check out the one and only, Mother Earth. You can see the coolest, most epic nature things from the airplane and I don’t want to miss out. Second, I often fall victim to motion sickness, and find the only chance I have is when I sit at the window seat and look at the horizon. Well, I’m in the aisle for my flight from Bali to Bangkok, and the couple beside me have closed the window. How the F am I supposed to a) continue my ever growing and changing love affair with nature and all things epic, and b) how am I supposed to keep my eggs down if things get bumpy?

Remember when PDA was something people liked to see? Hmm, in fact, I don’t think it’s ever been something people like to see. The couple next to me is having everything but sex. I’ve been thrown three elbows as a result from the violent rubbing and tickling going on, and we haven’t even taxi’ed away from the airport!!

Remember how I said, “I mostly like to sit in the window seat because the view of the horizon keeps my violent motion sickness in check” (see previous paragraph). If this making out, tickling, teasing, and other various methods of foreplay continues in the seats beside me, and that window remains closed, leaving me with no horizon to look at if I get motion sick, I can’t be held responsible for puking all over the place.



In the span of 5 minutes- since I finished the last thought- there has been a very obvious boob grab, a far from stealthy penis graze, an enthusiastic inner thigh squeeze, and an unnecessary number of comically audible kisses.

Who kisses that loud?

Window is still closed.


I am amazed. Here I sit, wearing noise cancelling headphones for the sole purpose of  blocking out the sounds coming from beneath the blanket beside me. What are they even doing under there? Do I ask them to stop? I don’t think I have ever felt more uncomfortable on an airplane in my entire life.

Window is still closed. These two are clearly worried about the daylight illuminating their far from appropriate airplane activities.


The girl from the pornographic airplane show sitting next to me just vomited into a barf bag. Surprisingly, it killed the mood. Thank you, turbulence.

Window is still closed.


To be clear, I don’t mean, “ thank you, turbulence for making this girl sick,” I mean,“thank you, turbulence for pressing pause on the unnecessary, and wildly inappropriate acts of my seat neighbours. That being said, I did let out a bit of a laugh when she pulled the blanket away and grabbed at the barf bag. The man gave me a dirty look. I politely offered to switch seats with her, so she could be on the aisle and could have a quick and easy path to the washroom if need be. She was so grateful and we switched seats. SUCCESS! Not only am I able to sit at the window seat for the most glorious sunset, but I was able to disguise the suggestion as an act of total selflessness.

I love airplanes.