I, the hostess, just can not stand. Today I'm writing from my desk in London and god knows how much it cost me this shift. of course, I love London. But that hour and a half flight took away all strength! this morning I embarked on this plane, not even to smoke a cigarette after-cappuccino and croissant I do not like the taste of smoke, but in any case, the absence of nicotine makes everything more complicated. In short, all the stress I've accumulated over time, between exams and work experience, rose to the surface when you leave. first mishap: call a taxi at six in the morning, say, the six-operator and he replies without a car-free. no free parking. then: are the six of any day, We are in Bologna, not in Madrid (and even in Bolzano): in Italy people have reasonable times. now, who tells me where they had finished all the taxis in the city? However, I do for a reason, call a taxi and pink ones for women, but they cost twice as much. The driver, seeing a girl in a miniskirt go, frustrated from driving a matiz a gum-colored unmanly, if you take the clothes to him dirty girl and lets out this misogynist comment: "There is not a soul around and see how this is tanned! then passes the maniac in office and one wonders how is it that has been raped." I take a plane and to discuss with this guy that for some damn reason is I do not want to drive their own. I am silent, not failing to raise an eyebrow. In short, finish. the guy does not spare a few comments on my bag hello kitty (bad, actually), takes the money and leaves. well. vaglielo to explain to the idiot, I use a suitcase full of hello kitty is female and not because he believes as a feminist, but because a suitcase full of Hello Kitty has so little poetry, to have very little chance of crashing on paris or sink in the hole. claustrophobia is the most funny you can imagine, in retrospect. But when I get on a plane, I think of having to lay off from the world. Everyone says that flying is safer train and car. try to convince of the truth and you will be taken to a claustrophobic bites (try it). if I start to look at the corridor, it makes me sick. if I look at the hostess, worse when they stop doing the rounds for delivery of newspapers and relax the facial muscles smile on his face that contract, I can think of the worst stories, like, have a headset in the ear and the driver is warning us to wear a parachute or have noticed the ignition of some red, reporting an engine failure. However, luckily I'm here. I refer you to the scene of the lift of Manhattan Murder Mystery, but on youtube there-for clarification.
