tristane

Well, something just had to go wrong. I had a feeling even when I got off the bus at the airport. Something just would go wrong.

It looked fine in the beginning. The plane came and left without any problems, but somewhere along the way something fucked up and after having been in the air almost an hour longer than usual the aircraft was forced to land on Vsters airport - almost two hours drive to Stockholm - where it waited, still with eighty cadets still restlessly seated, waited for another hour before somebody had managed to wake up a bus driver and rushed him over to the airport. We were loaded into the bus and taken to - the terminal, where it was time for the bus drivers regulated 30 minutes break.
One hopeless half hour later we were once again loaded onto the bus, and taken to - brace yourselves - ARLANDA AIRPORT, instead of, say, Stockholm City where everybody lives.

As the pilot said in his excusing tone in the microphone earlier, there are some who are happy about being in Vsters instead, and some that are less happy. I belong to the latter category. Johannes took the moment to text Hirvi who proclaimed "Misery!" over distance to "make everybody aware of the present cercomstances".
At the moment I am thus sitting on a bus where I, along with the rest of the cadets from H-stad, have secured myself in decently good shape for as long as the batteries on our laptops last. Happiest of them all was Ace, whose girlfriend was waiting for him at the airport at a quarter to five - one half hour before we jolted down the runway at what still we at the time had no idea was Vsters Airport.

So much for my ambitions of doing something fun this Friday evening. So much for my hopes of catching a movie, having a cold beer and perhaps even treat myself to a decent cocktail.
Instead I am crammed in between a grumpy cadet and a bus toiled, in a misery that is still utmost tangible.