London Luton: A special kind of Hell

It's one am.  Truthfully, I should have not taken a bus to this hellhole of an airport until 3, but I just wanted the ride here to be easy on the underground, not have to change city buses three times in order to get on the shuttle bus to finally take me to the airport.  So I've got 3 hours to kill until I can check in to EasyJet at 4 and my plane doesn't depart until 6:05.  Joy.  So you're my captive audience.  Held hostage by yours truly for a good, old-fashioned, whiny ass, headachey, bleary-eyed complain-a-thon.  That's right, a real bitchfest.

First off, the lighting is more awesome than a women's dressing room when you're trying on bathing suits (male-identified readers, either remember or imagine, whatever suits your personal gender situation more.)  I mean, it is deathly bright like flash photography in here.  Now, you'd think they's at least have the decency to have it be quiet, or if they're going to have piped in music, have it be something with know lyrics so you can sort of tune it out. But no, they've got this awful new country/rock thing happening, and while it's not loud, it definitely ain't quiet.  I consider digging around for my ipod, but what I really want is QUIET, as in NO MUSIC!  So I guess I'll just soak up this rich cultural experience of sitting in a glaringly bright airport food court and drinking coffee at 1 am.  Of course, I can't even send this until tomorrow when I'm actually in East Berlin at Bridge's place in Kreuzburg because there's no damn internet here.  I am reading a really good book at the moment.  (Thank Darwin.)  It's called "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett.  I highly suggest it.  I'm either going to lie on the damn floor and sleep or read it when I'm down kvetching here.  But honestly, I feel this is necessary.

All of you who thought it was so exciting that I was going off on this amazing adventure, boy, don't you wish you were here experiencing this?  Truly, all these folks with their sleeping bags out and bags and luggage carts around them, it's like a refugee camp in here!  I'm really sorry if that's culturally insensitive, especially for all of you in the bay area, but hyperbole makes for better writing.  If you were hear, you'd feel the same way.  I guarantee it.  Or maybe not.  Maybe you've done this before and are all zen about it.  But I bet you didn't have the piped in music.  That's the real kicker, I tell you.

Everyone here just looks sort of gray-faced and miserable.  I'm sure I do, too.  I mean, after all, we're carting our luggage around with us every time we have to use the loo or whatever and none of the Luton Airport employees are shining balls of light, let me tell you.  EasyJet, you are a miserable piece of shit airline at a miserable, fecal-faced airport.  So why am I flying you?  Because you are cheaper than dirt.  Oh, what I would do to be on a train to the Berlin Hauptbahnhoff right now.  But a train from London to Berlin is too pricey for the likes of this seriously disgruntled clown, as is a reasonable airline.  Us budget travelers, this is what we get.  Flourescent lights, piped-in shitty top 40/new country, and not so much as questionable carpeting to sleep on with our luggage stacked around us like shopping carts, like a homeless encampment or a shanty town.  And guess what someone just turned the volume up.

Soon, Berlin. Soon.