Sunlight in Dublin (and why NOT to go to the Philadelphia Airport)

Young travellers will go to crazy lengths for cheap plane tickets. Having to switch planes in Philadelphia didn’t seem that nuts to me. I forgot that airports exist in their own universe, where sometimes everything that could go wrong ALWAYS DOES.
So my flight was late taking off in Toronto. Not so surprising. I didn’t mind resting with my thoughts for awhile. I was still flustered from the American security check, in which sassy officials stood around talking to each other rather than explaining when to take off your shoes, when to put your lap top in a bin, etc. So I wasn’t too worried about the airplane.

Then I realized how close the estimated time of arrival of my Toronto plane was to the estimated time of take off for my Philadelphia one. Even though the flight was short and nondescript, we arrive just as my plane to Dublin was supposed to be taking off (8.00pm). Worse still, we were at Gate F-something and I had to get to Gate A-22, which required taking a shuttle bus. Not impressed. Then the stupid Philly airport needs to be so giant that the A Gates aren’t even that close together, and they start at A-1! So I’d run for a bit, then have to walk for a bit, then run for a bit, all the while telling myself that my airplane will of course be late too.

Finally, I see A-22 in the distance, but just as I see it an echoing voices comes over the overhead; “Attention for a gate change—Flight 270 to Dublin will now be leaving from Gate A-26. Gate A-26.” Are you fucking kidding me?! It turns out A-26 is at the very end of the building. I am sweaty and tired and stressed by the time I get there.

Of course, the plane is late. But I get less and less thankful for that as it becomes increasingly apparent that something horrible has gone wrong: the plane is an hour late... an hour and a half... two hours... with very little explanation, and no staff person there to offer help. Finally, the overhead guy apologizes and says that the plane is stuck in essentially a traffic jam on the run way, to which some of us just had to laugh.

There was no mutiny, we boarded and took off around 10.30, two hours late. I actually slept on the plane a bit (despite having a restless teenage boy beside me who would startle every time he woke up), but I am still jet lagged and just got up from a very deep nap.

Yeah, sunshine in Dublin; as I pictured it. Still, wandering around, getting worried about finding a job. The city is very similar to how I remembered it: either streets are large busy boulevards with all sorts of overpriced stores and restaurants, or don’t appear to have anything on them. I’m feeling a little like I won’t fit in so far, but first days are always surreal, and it’d be like judging Toronto if you had only been on the trashy stretch of Yonge street. I need to find my own hang out places, my own neighbourhoods, my own community.