I left for Bratislava Airport from Prague today. It turned out to be the right decision to stay in Prague and skip Brno and Bratislava. I needed time to do nothing and my spirit feels energized now.

The 4 hour bus trip was  a piece of cake, compared with the bus rides I’ve had this summer. Buses tend to be quite comfortable in this part of the world too. Once I got to the Bratislava bus station I managed to not get too lost and only had to ask two people for directions. For me, this is an improvement!


If Bratislava can be judged by it’s airport, then no one should ever visit this city. Bratislava airport is not much more than a glorified shed with good lighting and free wifi. It’s seriously embarrassing to think this is the airport of the capital of Slovakia. 

Getting on my Ryanair flight was an experience. It’s feels like an economy class train in India. It’s an adrenalin rush, like a game of musical chairs gone wild. You’re not quite sure what’s going to happen, but you know you’re going to do whatever it takes to get a seat.


Ryanair has taken the low-cost airline model to the next level. Not only do you now have to print your own boarding pass (or pay a huge fee), you pay extra just to book the ticket, to use a credit card, for checked baggage and even to be in front of the queue. It’s just a matter of time before they come up with other scams, like paying to use the toilet or having to pay extra to have a window seat. Actually, they could come up with some pretty cool add-on services like a premium to sit next to someone attractive and single. Now, that’s an value-added service. 


I was just thinking that it would smart if they screened infomercials to us, the captive audience. Sure enough, they came around peddling smokeless cigarettes and watches which magically relax you. Ryanair has finally taken the sleazy car-salesman approach to the skies. It’s both bizarre and amusing.  


I was happy to finally arrive at Liverpool Airport at 11:20pm. I had literally been travelling for 13 hours from the time I left Clabbe’s flat. 


But my luggage was no where to be found! I spoke with security and he said “Are you sure you had checked bags?”. Yes I am sure I had luggage, asshole. Trust Ryanair to fuck up, even after having to pay and extra £15 to check my bag. Security asked me to go check again. By this time everyone had left and the conveyor belt had stopped so I was not amused. This is it, I’m finally a statistic after all these years of flying – I have lost luggage. Probability dictated it would eventually happen. Sometimes flying is like playing Russian Roulette. 


So after 30 minutes of fluffying around, security gave me some forms. Apparently the baggage office was supposed to be open but the people working there “couldn’t be found”. I wondered if I’d need to buy a whole new wardrobe again. I reminisced fondly of my quirky t-shirts which were now surely being plundered by a rabid horde of underpaid Ryanair workers. 


Perhaps they had stolen the bottle of Mezcal from my bag and then decided to destroy all evidence of the crime. Oh yeah, I fo
rgot to mention that, I found a bottle of Mezcal at the karaoke bar on Monday. We were sitting on a couch which had a massive hole in it and after a few beers, I decided it was a magic rabbit hole and tried to climb in, to explore this new wonderland. To my delight, I found the letter “D”. I wondered what other letters I could find and ventured deeper. None unfortunately, but there was a brown bag in there so I pulled it out. In it sat an unopened bottle of Mezcal, with a receipt for CZK1335 (US$76) and dated May 2010. It had been sitting there for 5 months! I finally broke my “losing” streak and found something for a change. So we got some glasses and I was about to pour shots for everyone to celebrate, when the bartender came over to remind me that it wasn’t a BYO establishment. So I saved the Mezcal for another day.


Yes, I was now convinced that a small pack of Ryanair workers were smugly sharing my Mezcal, while my luggage lay burning in a dumpster nearby. The people from the baggage office were “missing” after all. Coincidence? I think not. Oh bitter irony. I left the airport dejected, where Jenny and her dad were meeting me. Just as we were about to drive off, I had a call on my cellphone. “We found your bag, it was accidentally left on the plane”. Fucking Ryanair.


I was relieved to get my bag back. And the Mezcal was still there too. Awesome.