I stupidly booked our tickets to hamburg too early for the first train to stansted, so we take a bus tonight and plan a delightful soujorn in the airport for five hours until departure. The airport resembles a youth hostel, people curled against the walls of arrivals, spilling over their suitcases, or propped up in chairs like marionettes. We found a fitful spot next to the mens room and set about pretending to sleep. By the time 4am rolled out, we were both delerious, christianes condtion exacerbated by the lack of corrective lenses, her delerium enhanced by the blur of lights from the duty free. We arrived the following morning and bore witness to the deep inexorable nature of german precision; each flight to lubeck has it’s own bus to hamburgs main terminus, and there were too many of us for the one. Another was ordered, and in the meantime those of us on the bus waited an hour before leaving, because all passengers were required to arrive in hamburg simultaneously.
