While better planning might have been nice, I think what I really need right now is a beer. I am waiting to meet the Fashionista in the Prague airport in what, to me, seems like the most obvious place – in front of the Duty Free Neuhaus. Since we never really figured out a meeting point. Which would have been clever, but a bit tricky, since we are both arriving from totally different places into a an airport neither of us has been through. And sadly, all of the screens display departures, and none display arrivals. But I am sitting across from some cologne ad featuring a very rugged-looking Ewan McGregor.
On one hand, I seem to be the height of fashion, since red rolling bags are popular. But then I see all these women in their skinny jeans, heels and such. And I’m in yoga pants and cherry flats. Then again, I have never been a fashion plate. And certainly not when I have to spend 18 hours in transit. Getting to O’Hare always tests my patience. Walking to the stop, I watched the bus pass by. But then I caught the other bus. Which of course, was the wrong one. So instead of cutting across town on the 92, I went all the way down Damen into Wicker Park to meet up with the blue line. OK. If I had my CTA card, I could have done a transfer, but I was operating with cash and new that this bus would definitely intersect with the blue line, however inefficiently. Fortunately, I had checked-in online. Landing in London took 2 hours from when we touched down to when I actually made it into the terminal. Two shuttles, a couple more queues. Apparently the whole reason Europeans travel is to shop the glamorous duty-frees in the airports. And Crunchie Nuggets are not sufficiently chi-chi to make it into the shops.
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