NYE walsh (wlsh) wrote in auguryic, @ 2008-04-16 19:07:00 |
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Nye didn’t like people, yet he felt somewhat proud to decide that he wouldn’t wish spending eleven hours in Dublin’s airport to anyone, except possibly aunt Efa who really didn’t seem to do anything but sit on her couch and complain all day long, other than that, Nye didn’t think there was anyone he’d wish this upon. Dublin airport was terrible. In fact, it was slightly more than terrible. At first, Nye had settled down on the floor, fighting sleep since napping in the middle of an airport wasn’t the most clever idea ever but then a policewoman had come around and announced that sleeping – and even sitting, apparently – on the floor at the airport was forbidden and that everyone should move over to the chairs. Of course, this was when Nye discovered that Dublin’s airport only had about ten chairs and yes, they all were taken by the time he got up. With only five hours left until check-in to the flight to San Francisco, Nye had paid hundred euros for a night in the airport’s hotel and really, it was probably a good thing he had no idea how much euro cost in pounds. In Nye’s option no matter what the currency was, it was money well spent because at least he had gotten some sleep before boarding the plane. Fourteen hours in a plane were tiring no matter what you did.
And especially tiring when you had a crying baby three seats down. Nye had never realized that babies could actually cry for so long. Given, it hadn’t been fourteen hours straight, thank God, not that Nye doubted the baby could’ve managed that, but still, it had been a really bloody long time. By what seemed like third day but actually only was second hour, Nye had offered to pay quite a lot of money to the flight attendant to either kill the baby or seat the mother and it’s spawn someplace else. It had worked and the twelve hours that were left of the flight seemed a lot more relaxing even if they were just as boring. Less irritating was good. Nye was, however, sure that the money he had saved by buying the cheapest plane ticket was surely lost in the whole trip as he had paid for the hotel, for the crying baby to disappear and in the end – he had paid quite a lot for the movie they were showing to be changed. Watching the bloody Notebook once was more than enough.
American customs as always were absolute rubbish and Nye couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes as an Irish girl got asked just why she hadn’t visited America for so long if she was a citizen. The fact that she had loudly answered in a thick Irish accent that she just happened to have lived in Ireland her whole life didn’t seem to convince the security that she wasn’t a terrorist with a fake passport. Right. Nye hadn’t even bothered to answer any of the questions he had gotten, simply pointing at his ears and mouthing ‘deaf’. He really had no wish to explain just why he was back in USA, not after a fourteen hours long flight and definitely not since he frankly had no clue why he was in America. Clearly stating that he was there for a) magic purposes and b) criminal purposes was not the best of ideas. These were, however only guesses just why he could be in San Francisco, to be fair, since Nye still wasn’t very clear on just why his father had wanted him back. Sure, sure, he had buggered off to save the world and whatnot but Mihangel was surely more than capable of taking care of... well, everything. It wasn’t exactly as if Nye was planning to do anything, anyway, and he was sure that his father had known this. Four years without seeing his family hadn’t changed Nye all that much.
After spending ridiculously long time in customs, Nye finally made his way out of the airport, his luggage being pushed behind him, because, yes, Nye had paid someone to do it for him. He was not going to push a trolley with seven large suitcases, thanks. “You can go,” he finally waved to the guy before giving him twenty dollar note and sitting down on the trolley. “I’m sure my brother will be here soon enough,” Nye added, more to himself than to the guy as he hardly looked interested in Nye’s well being. Making him self comfortable, Nye looked up at the sky. The only thing he found more attractive about San Francisco than Wales was the constant sun, because God knew it rained way too much in Wales.