I am sitting in the Crown Room at JFK, waiting for my connecting flight and thinking back on the last week. I was very sad to leave Berlin, a city that has made me feel so very much at home.
My flight was supposed to leave at the reasonable hour of 12pm. Upon arriving at the airport I found out that not only was the flight delayed by an hour, but that I was going to miss my connecting flight to LA. Now, instead of getting in at 8pm, I’m due to arrive at 11:30pm. Oy!
The flight from Berlin to New York crawled by, as I was feeling the full impact of my week of burning the candle very brightly at both ends. Unable to sleep, but too tired to do anything but sit and stare, I watched a couple of movies, and dozed off and on. I might be coming down with something too, which wouldn’t surprise me. One of the guest guides told me that they were told that the festival is an “international exchange of viruses”. It’s not glamorous but you’ve basically got thousands of people flying in from the four corners of the globe with all their various colds, coughs, and who knows what else. They then proceed to shake hands with, kiss, and otherwise physically intermingle with everyone else. If you wanted to release a deadly virus into the world, the Berlinale is the place to do it.
Arriving at JFK, we got stuck on the runway due to the “rush hour” air traffic. I had hoped I might just make my connecting flight, but by the time I reclaimed my bags, it wasn’t to be. I’m booked onto the next flight to LA, and to my surprise and delight I’ve been bumped up to Business class, hence my sitting here in the Crown Room lounge.
Sure, I won’t get home till after 12am. Sure, I have to be at work tomorrow at 7:30am. Sure, I’ll be there for over 12 hours straight and have no idea when I’m finally going to sleep. Sure, I’m probably going to fall into a depression thanks to the anticlimax of it all.
But I don’t care. I’m flying home in style, and it’s a perfect end to what has been a perfect, simply perfect, week.