As the sliding doors of Rome's Fiumicino airport opened this morning, the smell of coffee and croissants welcomed me. Above the background noise of hundreds of people talking, the clickclacking of hand luggage and an occasional burst of laughter, sounded the high pitched noise of cups and spoons being put on saucers. The sound of Italian breakfast: cornetto and cappuccino. Feels like coming home. Is this weird or what? Arriving at an airport at 6:30, and feeling at home? Am I travelling to much? Lemme see: from three weeks ago: Rome-Brussels-Rome-Parma-Rome-Addis Abeba-Rome-and now Brindisi. Could be worse.
With a comfort of cornetto and cappuccino, who cares Windows on the departure screen crashed again?
Oh, and no sign of striking Alitalia crew members...
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