I live in my tiny town that is quiet, sleepy, and filled with families whose schedules are dominated by biological rhythms of small children. I forget what’s out there.
The JFK airport is a futuristic nightmare. Huge construction projects are happening everywhere. Terminals are spaced out and organized in the most human-hating manner possible. My Iberia flight was cancelled, and I’ve been rebooked on a line called Aer Lingus that departs from the most hellish terminal in this already grim airport. Only the Trudeau airport in Montreal can bungle up security like JFK’s Terminal 7, creating the kind of lines that make people burst out in laughter the first time they see them. Surely, nobody expects us to stand here for two hours? passengers think. Surely not?
Instead of a direct flight to Madrid, I’m being rerouted through Ireland. It’s the story of my life to get rerouted through Ireland. Well, at least it’s an opportunity to discover what Aer Lingus is. Who ever knew that such a thing even existed?
Clarissa's Blog 
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