[2/2] Lisbon to Dublin: the Leftovers


I have dinner with V in the Cork airport: a tasteless burger with tasteless fries. ‘Thank you God for giving us ketchup and mayo, otherwise, 95% of fast-food restaurants would have gone bankrupt!’

An Irish lady sits with us. She was at the back of the airplane so she gives us more details about the sudden death of the Brazilian guy: a Portuguese girl was seated next to him. She saw that he was agitated and asked him if everything was ok. It was not ok. The Brazilian was obsessively saying that his time has come. He will die soon. ‘How do you know this?’, I ask. the Irish woman ‘I was a few rows in front, so we had a girls’ chat at some point’.

After dinner, V and I go towards the exit. A coach is supposed to take us to Dublin. We are not in a hurry, maybe a bit too relaxed. Outside we see that the two coaches are full already. We are left outside.

‘Lady, what about us?’ I am asking the blonde working for the airport, a woman in her late thirties, with red lipstick and thick eyeliner. ‘Another coach is waiting for you. But the driver can’t go before the last passenger is coming, a Portuguese woman.’ ‘Cool, where is she?’ ‘I think she lost her luggage’.


Photo by Nick Hillier on Unsplash


I sit with V in the coach chatting about life.


The mysterious woman is not coming. V and I keep chatting about life. I start biting my nails and looking at the watch every 5 minutes.


No trace of the mysterious woman. I become agitated. Tomorrow I have to organise a conference for 300 people. At 09h00.

The driver doesn’t know anything. I go out of the coach and head back to the airport. I see the blonde with a lot of make-up. ‘Excuse me, how long do we still need to be here’? ‘We need to wait for the last passenger,’ she says. ‘Hmmm, mmmkay, we will wait here, I hope not too long’. We sit. I am anxious. V is tired and impatient.


The Irish lady appears from nowhere and sits in front of us. ‘My son needs to come and pick me up. I live 20 minutes from Cork. This boy is late, ai. What about you?’ ‘We were left outside. There is another coach ready for us but we need to wait for this Portuguese woman that lost her baggage’, I explain. ‘Ha, the Portuguese woman is interrogated by the police. She was found with methamphetamine in her backpack’. ‘What? How…how do you know?’ ‘My dear, I know everything’, the Irish lady tells me petting my back. ‘Oh, my dumb son has arrived!’

I almost run to the blonde woman. ‘Lady, who exactly are we waiting for? Are we kept here because of another drug smuggler?’ ‘Wait, no, what?’, she is babbling. ‘Look, it’s not our fault that she is smuggling drugs. Why do I need to pay hours of my life for this? Why does V need to pay hours of his life for this? You need to send us to Dublin!’ ‘There is nothing we can do. You need to wait. You will leave soon’. The blonde magically disappears.

I don’t understand why we need to wait for a lady who is interrogated by the police.

23h15 The blonde lady is untraceable and invisible.

23h30 No blonde lady. No Portuguese drug smuggler. I call my colleagues in Dublin and tell them the short version of the story. ‘I don’t know when I will get to Dublin’. ‘But Camelia, are you ok? Why are you still there?’ ‘Good question’.

23h40 The blonde lady appears out of thin air.

I go to her covered in clouds and thunders. ‘Lady, we are still here. I have a conference to organise tomorrow at 09h00 in Dublin. I can’t do it from Cork. You will get me fired. You see this guy here? He is working for NATO. He needs to be on a boat. The boat will leave early tomorrow; it will not wait for him. You will get him fired too! Are you going to sleep well after this? Are you? ARE you? CALL US A TAXI WOMAN!!’


Finally, V and I were sitting in a cab. Tired, feeling cold and angry. We fall asleep. I arrive around 02h00 at my hotel. My colleagues tell me that, the next day, I can come to the venue later, at 11h00. Just get a God damn rest!

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