Réponse automatique d'absence du bureau*

*My mysteriously translated automated "out of office" response message after I logged-in to my Outlook account in France (I know, I know...but, I had a valid reason for checking my work e-mail on vacation. Really).

My experience with Iberia was different

It began in Terminal E. More precisely, it began at Houlihans Bar & Restaurant in Terminal E of Logan Airport, where FC Barcelona was in the process of beating Manchester United in the Champions League final (Iberia, Spain's national airline, flies out of E, which would explain the loud and proud Barcelona contingent in the bar). Fortified by a couple of beers and the winning atmosphere of Houlihans, I made my way to the applicable gate to board my flight--the first leg of my trip was to Madrid.

My plane smelled musty, vaguely like moth balls and ancient body odor, and the upholstery resembled a couch from the 70's abandoned in someone's basement. There were babies everywhere; international babies--all of them either crying or on the verge of crying. I settled into my seat, only to learn that the inflight movies were "17 Again" and "Last Chance Harvey."

Don't get me wrong, I've flown on worse airlines. Ukraine International, for example, where the landing gear was still being retracted and seat belt light had hardly gone out (or was there a light at all?) before the flight attendents were pushing carts up the aisle, loaded with nothing by liquor bottles clanking together as they hastily filled plastic cups on their way to the back of the plane. However, that flight was only a few hours, from Frankfurt to Kiev, and the liquor cart helped ease my fear.

Iberia was better in many ways, but, to be honest, I was a bit nervous about flying across the Atlantic on a plane that smelled like an old decommissioned subway car. Luckily, I had at least brought ear plugs to defend against the crying masses.

MAD

I managed to get through "17 Again" without any trouble and the babies were actually well behaved. Even the little Sikh in the row next to me who looked like trouble at the beginning of the flight, eventually settled down as her dad paced the aisles to keep her occupied. To make a long story short, I had the beef (with red wine) and discovered that Zac Efron is like Teen Wolf on the basketball court.

All in all, the 1977 flying Greyhound made it to Madrid-Barajas, where I spent my 2-hour layover before continuing on to Geneva, where I met up with LSB, fresh from her "World Traveler Plus" experience on the delightful and modern British Airways. A short (but speedy) taxi ride later we were in The Haute Savoie.

vive la france

More on this part in the next installment...