Voyage to Andorra. Part 6
I have a flight tomorrow, and the UIA website is still writing me “Sori! ”. Nothing to do. I had to disturb Andrey cgistalker. He promised to call UIA. It didn't even take an hour for everything to work! Andrey is just a magician! I just have a question, how do other people solve similar problems? After all, they don’t have such an Andrew! And why, in general, such problems arise where they should not be?
We slept badly. Also the alarm was set at the wrong time. My phone has a life of its own. At home, he shows me the time an hour ago, and on trips - I don’t know at all which one. So in Andorra, he showed the time is not local, but not home. And it was impossible to redo anything in manual mode. In short, the alarm rang at 4 am. Bliiiin! No one else fell asleep.
We got up at 6. At 6.35 we were already sitting in the hall with all the belongings. There was an elderly man on duty who did not speak English. The key was given. He silently took it and was not going to check anything in the room. He pointed us to snack bags - this is instead of breakfast, which we skip. They took things outside. We are standing. When it was time X (6.45), indicated in the tickets, I returned to the reception. She pointed to the man at the place on the tickets where the name of the hotel and the time were written. Then to the phone number below. He started calling. After talking with an invisible aunt, he told me that everything was ok. 3 minutes.
I went outside again. We are standing. We don't worry. The clock on the tower has already struck 7. At this time, the bus should already be leaving the bus station. But we are still not worried. We are in Europe! Everything is clear here!
A man came out, stood with us and went to call again. I follow him. This time the dialogue lasted much longer. The man insistently called the name of the hotel several times. It was not at all necessary to know the local language in order to understand everything. But I still didn't care. We are in Europe! Now everything will be destroyed!
The change has come. English speaking guy. The man explained the situation to him and hung up. The guy, after talking, in turn, took my tickets. And shows what is written at the bottom in small print. It turns out that we were supposed to be picked up at all and not from the hotel, but from a bus stop nearby. And it was not written in English at all! What is it? After talking some more, the manager told me that the company could change our tickets for 9 o'clock. I made round eyes and said that we might be late for the flight. He talked some more and said that in that case, we would have to take a taxi. At your own expense! I did not specify where exactly you need to go, catch up with the bus or already straight to Barcelona? I will still ride at my own expense! She said let them change at 9.00. The guy relaxed and said that since this is the case, we can go to breakfast. And I took the room key back from him. Things were left in the lobby.
We came to the room. Lie down. But sleep was just unreal! I began to frantically figure out how much time we actually have? I only remember that when I took tickets for 7, I left some reserve. But what? How long before departure does check-in close? In an hour? Or 40 minutes? I didn't find that information on the tickets. If in an hour, then we will have only 15 minutes to run from the bus to the reception. Or a whole 15 minutes. It would be possible, of course, to leave for 8 hours with another Directbus bus company, but this is additional money. The toad pressed. And anyway, it's too late. I had to think straight away. It was simply impossible to go further. I wanted to call Andrew. He said that we would most likely make it in time. God bless!
Nobody went to breakfast. I don't know how people can get fat because they overeat when they're nervous! Our piece simply did not climb into the throat. I approached the manager and asked him to take us to the bus stop. He promised that he would ask a colleague - a bartender. But it's still early! Well, yes, early! It was too early two hours ago. After wandering around the hall, they decided to crawl out. They dragged things to a stop. And I returned to the hotel and, seeing that the bartender was serving a client, I nodded persistently to the manager at the door. Sighing, he took his jacket and walked with me. At the bus stop, I asked him: “Here? ” He nodded. Looked at the clock. It was already fifteen minutes to nine. There is no bus. He said that it was because of the traffic, probably.
A big bus pulled up. A smiling driver jumped out and began stuffing our heavy ski bags into the luggage compartment. At parting, I kissed the manager and said that their hotel is “the best”!
The bus arrived at the bus station. The driver got out. I stare, unblinking, at the digital clock above his seat. Already 9.01! I jump out of the bus and pounce on a guy smoking nearby. He scaredly said that the driver was not him at all. He went into the office. I run into the office and say the phrase I learned the day before in English, the transcription of which Andrey dropped to me, so that I could operate it at the airport, pushing the rest of the passengers: “We are delaying he aue flight! ” It is impossible to say for sure whether the driver understood me. Most likely, I just looked so menacingly frightened and disheveled that he ran out after me, and we immediately drove off.
Andorra-Spain border. If we drove in that direction without delay, now a border guard entered the bus and started checking passports. It’s good that there were one and a half cripples on the bus, so it didn’t take much time. But then the bus was also subjected to customs inspection. The formidable uncle ordered the driver to open the luggage compartment. Leaning down, he contemplated its contents for a minute. What he wanted to see there remained a mystery. But we have lost time! On the way, we stopped a couple of times, picking up passengers in some settlements. This also did not contribute to relaxation.
Yes! What kind of skis are there! I have not received such a dose of adrenaline for a long time, and I am not sure if I received it at all! If this continues, he will simply kill me. It's time for a drink! We had two cans of beer with us, some unfinished dry wine, which I poured into a bottle of water. As well as a liter of whiskey, poured into two plastic eggplants. But on reflection, I gave up on the idea. What if you have to communicate with representatives of various structures, but will it smell from me?
In order to somehow distract myself, I began to take pictures of the landscape outside the window. But the bus was moving fast, and the weather was quite gloomy - low clouds shrouded the mountains. Therefore, nothing worked.
With difficulty, she stuffed herself with a sandwich that was in the hotel "lunchbox" and forced the boys to do the same. At the airport, we will no longer have time to refresh ourselves, and everything will not fit into hand luggage. We need to get rid of the ballast. They threw everything they didn't really need into a trash can attached to the middle door of the bus. Including a large water bottle. Small ones, 250 grams, were stuffed into the roomy pockets of Vadka's new jacket. I made Oleg pour whiskey from one eggplant into a thermos, which we took on the slope. There was no time to pack it in skis. And in hand luggage, you look and ride. They didn’t find the second eggplant - they packed it somewhere, apparently.
A bus speeding along the highway at a speed limit of 100 suddenly slowed down and crawled. Slightly calmed before, I became nervous again. There was an accident ahead. And then - another one! I wonder when the bus schedule is drawn up, do they allow for some time for force majeure? I tried to chat with Andrey, but the Wi-Fi, for some reason, did not want to work hard. Appeared and immediately disappeared. Not our day today!
I sat and thought, why is this happening? Has the bus we missed crashed? Or the plane should fall, and we don't need it? There must be some meaning in everything that happens, albeit incomprehensible to us? It was a little comforting. And then I saw the third accident - a car burned to the ground. Horror what! People were probably in a hurry too.
I don't know what was going on in the minds of my companions. Vadik even took a nap a little. Here are the nerves!
When I thought to myself that everyone had already arrived (more precisely, sailed), I pulled a large bottle of water back from the trash can. Living at the airport is expensive. Come in handy.
Meanwhile, finally getting out of the traffic jam, the bus rushed at full sail. There already and the airport! Only the bus will first call at the second terminal. Or won't it? I stopped by. The poor driver tried his best! Pulled out of the trunk of the chumodanishchi with breakneck speed. Let's go further. In the aisle of the bus, unable to sit, like me, the guy toiled. I told him about our trouble. He said that he and his wife were also very late. And they also have a flight at 13.30. Only by Aeroflot.
The bus was half an hour late. There were 45 minutes left before departure. Grabbing the unbearable junk, we fly into the airport building. But where to run? On the scoreboard, my eyes refused to see anything. I ran along the rows of racks, looking for the UIA logo. And their (ranks) are there - be healthy! Not finding it, having wasted a few precious minutes on stupid throwing, I returned again to the scoreboard. Finally finding what she was looking for, she ran in the other direction. Well, as always! My anti-intuition did not disappoint here either! The UIA counter was in the very corner, to the right of the entrance, and, of course, I ran to the left!
There was also an Aeroflot counter right next to it, to which our fellow travelers from the bus were just approaching. Behind her was a girl who accepted the luggage from the Russians without any problems. And there was no one behind the UIA counter! I asked the representative of Aeroflot (not Russian) to call someone to us, but she just shrugged her shoulders and ordered to go to the "information". What kind of "information", I did not understand. I have seen the scoreboard without it. She again began to rush about stupidly in search of at least someone who spoke Russian. Everyone just smiled and shrugged. And sent to the "information". I also wanted to send everyone. Finally, I saw a booth that turned out to be this very "information". The girl sitting there, having contacted someone on the phone, gave me the receiver. From the tube, not very friendly, however, Russian-speaking, the aunt ordered us to go, with all the belongings, go through control, and then move to exit E.
And we moved. Despising the line for inspection, they squeezed their way to the tape and put their covers and backpacks on it. I'm telling you this for a long time, but everything happened, probably, very quickly. There were 25 minutes left before departure.
Remember the final scene of The Golden Calf? Pretty much the same thing happened. The customs girl said something to me, like, "But botes. " I didn't understand right away. She decided that she meant to say that ski boots are not allowed! It is not clear what and why, but no way! I didn't have time to think. I said in Russian that it's not a question! Now we are dressing them. But she stubbornly said, “But it’s possible! ” Then it dawned on me that she meant not bots at all, but their contents. Botles or something like that. Poor Vadik had to hurriedly tear open the adhesive tape, with which he had carefully wrapped the complex construction of a ski bag and a bag with boots the day before. It was there that two bottles of the excellent Old Friends port wine were located. The same fate befell two bottles from Oleg's luggage. And two cans of beer. And a couple of decals of wine. Corkscrew and vadkin desic spray. But if the beer and cracker were simply thrown away, then the bag was put aside. I graciously allowed the girl to drink to my health. But she made her face look like a chopper and said: “impossible! ”. They will probably throw it into the abyss!
Relieved, we ran further to passport control. The guy in the booth only asked me: “Ski or board? ”. Run to the exit E. Run, it's loudly said. Poor Vadik could hardly crawl with his sore leg.
Outlet E was somehow deserted. I asked the girl with the badge: "Kyiv? " She said, looking somewhere: "F10". Mom dear! It's on the other end! No longer hoping for anything, I did not even look at the clock. Running (more precisely crawling) past the scoreboard, I saw a word in front of our flight. It probably translates as “flew away” - flashed through my head.
Doshkandybav, finally before the desired exit, saw a long queue. "Where is it? " - I ask. And they answer me - to Kyiv!
Even if I didn’t believe in God before, I would immediately believe!
