The Italian Job, Part II - Escape from Milan

Eyjafjallajokull had started erupting on Wednesday. My one colleague had been trying to get out of Milan since Thursday night, when his original flight to London was cancelled. By Monday morning, Malpensa airport was open. All flights to London had been cancelled and as for my American co-workers, the only way out of Europe was from Lisbon so we decided they would come to Portugal with me. They would take a plane from Milan to Madrid and then either a train, or a car to Porto. I felt confident my flight from Milan to Porto would leave as scheduled. But by 10am, Malpensa airport was closed, all of our flights now cancelled.

At this point we were all at the airport trying to make our way to different airline counters in search of a way out. We joked about flying to Capri or driving to Naples, maybe just wait it out on Lake Como. The ash cloud had not reached Southern Italy so the thinking was if we get a bit more south we might be able to fly to Portugal. The ash cloud hadn’t even made it to Portugal so we were hopeful.

While waiting with our Spanish intern at the Lufthansa counter a women ran over to us and asked if we were headed to Madrid. We said yes! We knew if we got to Madrid we would have a place to crash, showers, food and worse case scenario a 6 hour drive from Madrid to Porto. The bus was leaving in 30 minutes and the intern and I still had no idea were the rest of our sales team was…. We told the woman that we had a group of 4 and we would be on the bus. Frantic we ran through the airport, found the others, went to the bathroom, got money at a cash machine, grabbed snacks and within 20 minutes we were headed to the bus.

This was the being of our 36 hour overland journey from Milan to Porto. We had two bus drivers on the ride to Madrid. One drove faster than any Chinatown bus driver I can imagine and the other made jokes in Spanish over the loud speaker; “Good afternoon, is your captain speaking, we have good wind and the air is clear, we will make our final destination on time” Ohhh hahahhaha….

I was on the bus with the two other wholesale managers and our Spanish intern. We drove south, over the mountains then along the French Riviera. The bus was cruising along at a good pace, so no photos of Nice, Cannes, or Marseille. There were moments when everyone stood up to look out the window and see the ocean, sailboats and the Spanish tiled rooftops of Monaco and Nice. As we zoomed past some of the prettiest countryside I’ve seen, I decide Matt and I will have to do this at a much more leisurely pace. Suddenly I realized how close everything is. Nice to Porto is closer than New York to Disney World and people make that boring trip down I-95 all the time!
We stopped every few hours, I had a delicious baguette with cheese from a gas station right outside of Nice, purchased chocolate covered waffles at another French gas station and before I knew it, it was dark out and everyone was sleeping. My one co-worker (lets call her “X”, to avoid embarrassment) had taken some Tylenol PM to ease the uncomfortable sleeping on a bus situation and around midnight, still somewhere in France we stopped for a snack. The four of us stumbled out, sleepy and achy, and made our way towards another gas station. A large tractor-trailer drove past us full of livestock. “X” called out, in a sleepy sort of way-
“Its Lions!”
“What? No, it isn’t Lions.”
“Or tigers?”
“X , I don’t think there are lions or tigers in there. It’s cows.”

Then I suggested we all walk over to see the lions, tigers, or cows. X agreed but still thought that maybe the circus was in town. Eventually she saw what we all knew.
“ohhh its cows….”

Disappointed we all made our way back to the gas station were we proceeded to stumble over how to say Thank you. “Obrigada, Grazie, ohh Merci”

Somewhere between Barcelona and Madrid I watched a plane fly by in the night sky. Hmm… I wondered how it managed to get out, and thought of all the “test flights” that had been going on to prove how safe the ash cloud was. A few hours more, and we made another stop, the sky was that unreal blue you find early in the morning, just before the sun begins to rise, I could make out the Pyrenees mountains in the distance. I got back on the bus and watched the sun make its way onto the horizon.
Soon enough we arrived at the airport in Madrid to a sea of taxicabs waiting to pick up passengers from flights that would never arrive. It was an eerie sight as they lined the arrivals line, 3 deep. The four of us made our way to the front of the taxi line, and headed for our interns family home. After a good breakfast, and showers, a fellow co-worker that had driven from Porto to Madrid picked us up. We hopped into his car for the last leg of the journey. I must say this bit is sort of a blur, while I didn’t sleep, I am not sure how awake I really was. I know I arrived back home around dinner time, and Matt had made the 3 of us a delicious meal. My knee still hurts and I think I need to see a chiropractor at some point, but we made it home, quicker than most.






Our rescue car in Madrid!

Spring Break, Milan 2010, AIRPORT PARTY!

Surprisingly everyone was willing to go through the worst part of flying just to get to the party. We waited on lines, passport in hand, got checked off the guest list, and went through security. Boots off, belt off, watch off, do you have a laptop in your bag? A mix of those of us coming straight from working at our exhibits and a very fashionable set, waited patiently to get our bags scanned. I overheard an occasional rumbling of “this is ridiculous” but we all went along with the theme party. Boarding pass in hand we all marched out onto the tarmac and into the hanger. In the distance one of my co-works pointed out the plane he should have been on, to get back to London. The only thought was -pour yourself another glass of champagne and hope to fly tomorrow. We ended up leaving soon after, as the music was loud, and champagne became increasingly more difficult to get a hold of.

Hungry and with out reservations, we decided to get burgers at the Four Seasons hotel bar. Upon entering the bar we realized it had become a haven for Brits and Northern American’s looking for solace, from the over indulgent pasta dishes, and so we dined with friends and snuck off to scan the hallway’s and public spaces of a very posh hotel in Milan.

Sometime after midnight the suggestion was made to go to Bar Basso. Somehow, and I never got a straight answer on this, Bar Basso has become an institution during Salone del Mobile, and everyone floods the streets surrounding the Bar. It is an interesting scene, as you are rubbing shoulders with Design superstars, magazine editors, and owners of very well known furniture brands, along with students and design groupies. And yet everyone is standing in the street drinking beer from bottles, like they are on Bourbon St. We bumped into one designer who had stored champagne glasses in his coat and he poured each of us a glass from the very large bottle of champagne he had at his feet. And everyone spoke of missed flights, and sorting out trains in the morning, fabulous exhibits and design bombs but mostly we drank in the street as if it were Spring Break Milan 2010.

Eyajaf*ckawhat?

This thing all the way in Iceland is making my life hell, all the way in Italy!
And nobody can even pronounce it!