The Wandering Chocoholic

In a sort of non-ironic irony that you might expect to see in an Alanis Morissette lyric, I spent the last 24 hours running around trying to replace money, cards and ID after my wallet was stolen. Yes, that’s right, I was pickpocketed at home, a day before departing for Europe. Go figure. The timing couldn’t have been worse, but luckily I was able to get the essentials replaced in time to allow me to leave. Special thanks for the folks at TD Bank, who rush-couriered me my replacement bank and credit cards so I could actually afford to buy stuff on this trip, like food and whatnot.

I rushed to the airport after the sort of scramble I’ve gotten accustomed to, since the last day before vacation always ends up being busy at work. I rushed over to Dorval on the 747 after work, making it to the airport in plenty of time — and a good thing, too, ’cause the bastard pickpockets stole my Nexus card so I was relegated to the long security line with the hoi polloi. Once you get used to those little luxuries, it’s hard to go back.

My overnight flight was uneventful. And, credit where credit’s due: I like to rag on Air Canada, but the flight was actually pretty pleasant. New quiet plane, good seatback entertainment, on time. Oh, and more than half empty. I had an entire row to stretch out, and so did most everyone else on the plane. I asked the flight attendant and she said that the plane is usually full on the way to Montreal, but on the way to Frankfurt it’s often less than full because there’s another flight a couple of hours earlier. Oh well, I certainly wasn’t complaining.

Anyway, now I’m in Frankfurt, which is dreary, rainy and damp. But that’s okay; I’m not staying long. I’m just waiting to board my next flight. It feels like 4 in the morning for me, so I’m more than a little exhausted, and the hard plastic chairs aren’t really conducive to sleep. The 45-minute security lineup didn’t help, either. And everyone in this airport — and on the plane — seems to have a bad cough; I’ve been washing my hands obsessively but I fear that I may just be postponing the inevitable.

Boarding momentarily. Next stop: Vilnius.