Flying down to Rio

I've fairly early start. my flight is at 10:40. I rise at 6:45. And am in an Uber by 8:05.

The formalities go pretty fast tanks to pushing in boarding. And after a quick diversion to the duty free, I'm in the lounge by 8:30.

It's the standard brace of whiskies to kick off. Along with some breakfast. It's the best meal of the day in the lounge. The hash browns are pretty nice. Not so keen on the turkey bacon. I prefer the real stuff. Which is full of piggy goodness.

For some reason, I thought the scrambled egg was potato salad on my first visit to the food bar. WTF was I thinking? Next time I get myself a plain omelette. And insert some cheese. Cheese improves anything.

I revisit the bar bar a couple of times for more restorative whiskies. Wouldn’t want to be getting on the plane too sober.

There's no air bridge, for some reason. We have to get a bus. Which is weird for such a large jet. And lots of stairs to walk up. Always a challenge for fat oldies like me.

Boarding is competed pretty early. I’m hoping to get two free seats next to me. But right, just before the doors close, two young blokes take the seats. They're obviously on stand-by. And, judging by the way they interact with the cabin crew, seem to be KLM employees. Probably cabin crew themselves.

That's fucked me trying to surreptitiously drink the miniatures I bought in the duty free. Then, just before take-off, they're moved to premium economy. Phew.

Just before take-off, we're told that there will be a half hour delay due to a "miscommunication". Great. It's more like 40 minutes. Brilliant. Though the pilot claims we'll still arrive on time. I’ll believe that when it happens.

The first meal is meatballs. It's just about edible. Though I can't stomach the mash. It’s good to have low expectations of airplane meals.

I start watching Infinite Vice. Which is sort of like the Big Lebowski. But not quite as good. Half way through, I pause it and doze for a couple of hours. It makes the time go quicker.

I nip to the galley a couple of times to fetch some red wine. I wouldn't want to become dehydrated during the flight, would I?

It's a long walk to immigration again. At least there are moving walkways for most of it. With my oldie priority, I'm through in a jiffy.

My bag pops out quickly. And soon I'm in a taxi bouncing towards Ipanema. Through a darkened Rio, lights glistening on the hillsides. Motorbikes weave scarily through the traffic. We dash through floodlit tunnels. Finally, rumbling into the rumbaing streets of Ipanema. Where shops glow enticingly. Cafés and bars spilling joyously onto the pavement.

God, I love Rio. Especially Ipanema. That could explain why I come here so often.

Same hotel as always. Comfortable enough rooms. Great location. Pretty decent buffet breakfast, which includes bacon. Crispy bacon. Mmmm.

Once checked in, I nip to the supermarket. It isn’t even a block away. (See what I said about the hotel’s location?) For bread rolls, cheese, sliced meat and cola. The latter to mix with my whisky. That’ll be my tea. The rolls and stuff, not the whisky. That’s supper.

The meat section is impressive. Big chunks of lovely beef. I stare longingly at the display for a while. Before moving on to the cheese. A far less impressive display. I’ve been spoilt by living in Holland.

I consider dropping by Mad Brew for a beer or two. Just consider. I don’t actually do it. As it’s getting late. And the pubs are looking pretty crowded. With happy, young people. Pretty much the opposite of me. I don’t want to bring down the tone.

I spend the next couple of hours watching YouTube. And sipping my whisky. Until sleep beckons me from across the void. Hello oblivion.