all began one hot morning in early winter in a cold city like Berlin. After an early rising to 6.30, groped to give back to the form of a suitcase in my hand luggage so crammed with stuff that you have reached the density of a black hole, I went to work happy and cheerful despite the gray skies and freezing temperatures. I had reached that state of self-persuasion that within just a few hours I would be traveling to Italy with my one thousand perspectives: a winter holiday, Christmas dinner, a huge family reunion where I held a lot and some long-standing thing to do, fuck off insurance, sell my beloved Golf and close the contract with the Italian bank. With his mind full of happy and gloomy thoughts that I usually mark, a lot of trouble at work and apparently I was not able to resolve, I set out after eight hours of office in the direction of my special friend: airport Shönefeld. Comfortably seated on the bus, I enjoy the view, although there was a driver at the wheel probably turkish judging by the brisk and abrupt braking so many old legs in the air by passing fling. The program was ready for days: air at 18.35, arriving at the 21 home, 22 if you delay, good sleep and then the next day a lot of chores to spend the holidays happy and carefree in the evening with a drink / eat at the Brewery Como worthy to be told to posterity.
was December 22, 2009 and I was still trusting and naive client Easyjet. As in the worst science fiction novels, the ones from which they are extracted the B-Movie, so to speak, all begins with that quiet situation in which the protagonist is not only convinced that everything will go well, but also in the company is very intimate with a beautiful blonde with a bra and octave are about to make love when the inevitable happens: the Easyjet flight EZY4677 is dangerously delayed by two hours on the road map. Why? As "Why?" What kinda question is. It's like ask a woman because it takes 9 months to give birth to a son, is like asking a Christian, because God is triune, is like asking why the devil is evil. Easyjet needs its time frame, mettetevelo that into your head.
In the head of the average traveler, in fact, after two hours waiting for the inevitable questions begin to arise: I left open the gas? I forgot my toothbrush? It's not like me are taking the piss?
But go, but no. Here comes the magic called the gate. Yay, call us at the gate. The plane has arrived, is near the gate, we identify as non-suicide terrorists on board and there (or there inaereano?) After transition attraverso il gate. Gate 12, me lo ricordo ancora, come mi ricordo le mie ultime famose parole: “Poveri cristi quelli del volo per Roma, cancellato un minuto fa...”. Un tedesco dall’aria paffuta, in un inglese peggiore della media ci informa che il nostro FOTTUTO VOLO È STATO CANCELLATO. Perché? Nessuno lo ha mai saputo. L’unica certezza, in quei momenti di panico, tensione e incazzatura, è stata la risposta ai banchi del check-in che i luminosi addetti Easyjet, nelle loro tenute arancioni, usavano ripetere: trovate tutte le informazioni sul sito internet. Certo, siamo tutti i-phone dotati, fuori gocciolano smartphone come se piovesse, abbiamo tutti in aeroporto un portatile con connessione diretta all’arancionissimo Easyjet website.
It was really a pity that no one has lost his mind, that these ridiculous British estate persimmon color seem not to understand what is four hundred Italians pissed off, taken for a ride with a craving for cake and pandoro to do a diabetic would fade layers able to combine. We could not just put on fire at the airport, demolishing the entire fleet Easyjet Berlin and get away happily despite the inevitable violence, rapes and killings of a completely fortuitous that in such a situation can not be sure, but hostage taking in some beautiful flight attendant would have demanded and obtained the head of the managing director Easyjet (That Andrew Harrison) impaled on a pike before sunrise. Unfortunately, with great regret of the phalanges most extreme, the situation was resolved peacefully. For Easyjet.
With the prospect of leaving, maybe after Christmas, picked up 4 other traveling companions and have insulted badly whatever it was colored orange in the vicinity of the airport (pace of a Russian lady and her dog Pepe) we are dawn of the 10 meridians post headed to the train station, or better known as Hauptbahnhof. A distinguished-looking gentleman behind the counter of the first class, proves to be very accommodating and willing to book a trip from the modest sum of 177 € for me, in Lugano, 195 for those staying in Milan and 270 for those who had the misfortune to be born in Rome. Good thing they invented credit cards, so at least the feeling of having a lighter wallet there are avoided.
Yet no one (me) had pointed out that the notorious train shiny expensive branded in red and white Deutsche Bahn would start at 6.30 am on what is, undoubtedly, seems to be December 23.
So what to do? Go home and within 3 hours of awakening and return to the station? Given the assumption that blind luck is bad luck but we see very well, being well without the first and second polishing the binoculars, I decided to spend a night vigil at the station. It was there that I began to step up to 5 kg in January on my return I found lying uncomfortably on my lap table. The only place open all night, in what pretends to be the central station of the city's most central of Europe, for Christ's sake, it's McDonald. You have to experience to understand what it feels like to be forced to pass through one night without being caught by the desire to eat five Krispy McBacon, injected two-liter of Fanta and at the same time resist the urge to shred Ronald McDonald and feast on its sandwiches resti.Parecchi ture-roads, soft drinks and coffee diluted after we have now come time to leave. The clock stazione ci saluta con il suo bel 6 e qualche minuto e la stazione con un Willkommen in Berlin del tutto poco opportuno, che maleducata. 
“Tutti in vettura!” Esclama quella che sembra una guardia giurata in tenuta carnevalesca nel peggior tedesco a ovest dello Sprea. Sarà il berretto rosso, o la faccia da gnomo da giardino, oppure il fatto che agita pericolosamente avanti ed indietro la macchinetta per la carta di credito, ma ci diamo una mossa, mica che questo ci spela altri soldi. Una volta dentro ci arrabattiamo a trovare un posto a sedere su di un treno supertecnologico dove tutto trasuda cotanto sperpero di denaro pubblico che perfino le scritte in braille sono a caratteri luminosi; come se a blind person would need to see them. But we know that the Germans are always in good faith, so those two fake invalids Sicilian accent, after deviating glasses blacks, thank amicably. Time zero and coma assails us ...
drove icy desolate moors on their way to Frankfurt and then to the south of Germany, in the direction of its neutrality, Switzerland. Also called the land of chocolate, purple cow (also made of chocolate), banks and maniacal precision, Switzerland not only proved incredibly empty cows purple, full of Swiss neutrality and not attached to their little treasures bank but also of dubious punctuality. The train arrived somewhere in central Switzerland with four minutes late: there was no Swiss inveisse against the Germans even though it must be acknowledged that there was no German inveisse against the Swiss. And in the middle: me. It would be curious to know why all this heat, on the other hand it seems to me that a journey of 800 km abundant four minutes to be completely negligible, apart from the coincidences. Maybe because I'm Italian, but to see people who insulted German was very funny. Sure, maybe I did not understand and indeed they were happily shouting to each other about the time the arteriosclerosis el'increscioso increase in the price of canned beans, but an Italian can not seem possible that people curse like that for a few minutes, you see I have never traveled with the Northern Railway. On the other hand, we, the academic quarter-hour delay / advance've got it written in the DNA, right between the "hate the French" and "love football to the madness" for those who want to control. Maybe because I do not hate the French (who I do not spit), it sucks I love football and punctuality, but I can not possibly call me Italian? It took another two changes of train, two other regional Swiss squalid neat to reach the coveted goal of Lugano, where my parents were waiting for me to guide my beloved in home.
After 38 hours of wakefulness, I kissed the Varesina homeland.
Zzzz * * * POP *
Yaaaaaahwn ...* * * BURP *
Hmm? Yes?
Where were we? Ah yes: Berlin, airport, train, train, Easyjet sucks, Switzerland, Lugano, Varese, Easyjet really sucks, the Christmas holidays. Entirely clear or I missed something? What an idiot: Easyjet sucks no doubt.
holidays spent in Italy were pleasant, despite the famous five pounds that have made my abdominal turtle, which was already the first turn on the wrong side sempre più simile ad un cocomero. Riassumiamo? In quindici giorni ho fatto tutto quello che dovevo fare; parenti, mica parenti, cene e pranzi, tanti bidet per togliermi la voglia, ho chiuso con la banca e l’assicurazione, ho sparso la voce che la mia golf era in vendita, ho imparato a sciare, ho rischiato la vita un paio di volte, ho mangiato due volte la fagiolata.
Ed ecco, già l’ora è giunta di salutare la mia amata città natale, con il suo lago inquinato, leghisti da tutte le parti, quell’odore di sterco che la contraddistingue così bene, il Sacro Monte sempre pronto ad accoglierti per un sano pellegrinaggio ed una bella pregata pronti via... Eccomi all’aeroporto in quel del 10 Gennaio 2010 che I will never forget: clear skies, not even a cloud, very pleasant 10 degrees. I look forward to.
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"Mr. Carraro his flight was canceled."
I became hydrophobic.
But you can be more losers than me? Well actually yes. I knew a bit 'of people at the gate, apparently a few, whose ultimate goal was to get a couple of months in prison in Germany, not only found themselves without a flight that of Milan, but had suffered multiple deletions in December. Eh oh well, I console myself, c’è chi sta peggio di me. Ci spostano il volo di un giorno intero (non vi dico il capo che è felice come una Pasqua a Natale) ed io, tornato ospite dai miei, mi metto a googolare. E cosa scopro? Le motivazioni ufficiali di Easyjet per alcuni dei voli cancellati nell’arco delle feste e per i quali, ovviamente, non sono previsti rimborsi:
EZY4677 il mio, del 22 dicembre: mancanza di assorbenti in cabina
EZY4324 Berlino-Budapest: la crew iraniana chiede asilo politico
EZY3122 Atene- Bruxelles: epidemia di peste polmonare in aeroporto
EZY3122 Praga-Roma: la crew Easyjet si è attardata in una casa di piacere
EZY5518 Napoli-Venezia: una hostess si è spezzata un’unghia
EZY1689 Milan-Paris: a steward has a broken fingernail
EZY1689 Madrid-Athens after a game of hide and seek among the members of the crew, the pilot does not find support for the take-off was just a ploy to win do not
EZY8813 London Paris seems to be the cause of the beating wings of a butterfly in Laos
EZY3321 Liverpool-Prague: the steward is in love Ghei
EZY5563 London-Lisbon: Following an inspection, the pilot has been found does not have a boating license
EZY1689 Copenhagen-Monaco: Passengers block off the airplane by expressing doubts about its real lift wing, being without wings. EZY4325
Budapest-Berlin: the crew became part of the Budapest-Drinking-Team
EZY2121 London-Milan: the usual Ghei steward lost his anal virginity
EZY1789 Barcelona-Paris: the driver told the press "I was the second attack in Dallas in '63" EZY1777
Naples-Salerno: Mount Vesuvius erupted seems to be the most beautiful
EZY2285 Glasgow-Basel: The second pilot is in crisis and mystical idolizes a Lesser God
EZY2672 Milan-Liverpool: The plane apparently was well hidden, so not to be found
EZY5560 Athens-Rome: a hostess is the cat dead
EZY5563 Paris-Venice labor dispute in order to eliminate the smell from the catalog Easyjet Victoria Beckham
EZY8879 Madrid-Athens: flight controllers in pre-exam panic
EZY8234 Orio al Serio-Budapest: the Boeing 339 Easyjet Ryanair livery seems to have
EZY3602 Milan Malpensa and Milan Linate: The crew was taken to heaven body and soul
EZY2205 Trapani-Canosa di Puglia : The plane does not take off due to a game of rummy in a brawl that led
EZY1009 Nice-Budapest: it seems you were celebrating on board the Carnival Ecuador
EZY2689 Roma-Monaco: Silvio said no.
EZY3469 Liverpool-Liverpool: the driver (male) is suffering from postpartum depression
EZY1946 Prague-Prague after the chorus "if we make the incident, only the driver died," sung by members (drunk) crew, the pilot goes on strike
EZY4893 Genoa-Budapest: a hostess is in the throes of multiple orgasms
EZY4466 Athens-Budapest: the steward Ghei was planted
EZY6834 Rome-Glasgow: a passenger has a compelling need for an exorcism EZY2089
Basel-Palma de Majorca: Easyjet expresses solidarity with Mel Gibson
EZY1000 Paris-Zurich: CEO of Easyjet, taken from delusions of omnipotence, declared war on Switzerland
EZY3912 Copenhagen-Nice: It is rumored that the day Judgement has finally arrived
EZY2676 Berlin-Venice: lost keys dell'aviogetto
EZY1666 Oslo-Barcelona: the usual soccer challenge between national teams of pilots and flight attendants ended only after extra time on the ground, leaving four injured and two red cards
EZY2121 Stockholm-Zurich: a passenger forgets to go by bike
EZY9865 Naples-Oslo: The Pilot suffers from vertigo
EZY1473 Malta-Milan: the pilot is believed Jesus Christ, who came for the second time to proselytize. Even the slap homosexual assistant flight from the air can shake his mystical delirium
EZY4324 Hogwarts-Oslo: Final Quidditch Slytherin (sponsored by Easyjet) against Gryffindor
EZY4324 Milan-Rome: hostess pregnant
EZY4325 Milan-Rome : a steward and the steward is Ghei fist fight to decide who is the father
EZY4326 Milan-Rome seems to have won the steward Ghei
EZY1689 Stockholm-Malta: the baggage handlers suffering from Stockholm syndrome
EZY4677 Milan-Berlin: a hostess dares to blaspheme, but being in the middle a burping contest, violates the contractual obligations and is fired.
Of course, one can not say they do not warn you before you leave.
Eventually we arrived in Berlin, adding 2 hours late and 30 € by taxi to reach my home.
not happy with my misfortunes, I am going to book the return at Easter with the company more orange movement in the skies of Europe, like many of my fellow sufferers have already done so. Time will tell.
is January 28, 2010, and perhaps I'm still a customer of Easyjet, waiting for reimbursement.
"If something can go wrong, will."
Edward A. Murphy Jr.
