Hot July evenings, made even hotter by Covid, drought, tragedies in the mountains, war in Europe. A shocked and unimaginable world for many, if not for all, until a few years ago. To this dramatic science fiction film I would like to add, hoping not to appear frivolous, the inconveniences of travelers these days: taxi strikes, staff shortages at airports, unforeseen and unpredictable storms. In short, nightmare trips. What harms tourism the most? Personally, it cost me a lot of stress and the risk of walking 20 kilometers at one in the morning to get home after a 45-minute flight from Olbia to Bologna. Here is the live story.
A nightmare journey: from Olbia to Bologna, an obstacle course
Things went like this: on Monday 4 July at 21,20 our flight left from Olbia to Bologna about an hour later. VoloTea informs us in time saying that we will have a delay of 25 minutes on the roadmap. So we arrive at the airport at 20,45, without hurry, in any case we have already checked in online and as luggage we only have the computers and a small women's bag, we just have to wait. The Olbia airport is very full, most of the people do not wear a mask. We, to raise the average, have two, one Fp2 below and one surgical above, you never know.
At 21,55 we are still waiting for boarding. About 22,15pm (we weren't constantly looking at the clock) we finally go up and ten minutes later we take off. The pilot flies at full throttle and around 23pm we are above Bologna. Here, instead of landing, we continue to circle the city for at least twenty minutes. It's raining and there's lightning (the forecasts gave none of this) but the problem, probably, is that there are other planes in the queue. A voice from the background hazards: won't they divert us towards Florence?
Luckily not, at 23,30 pm we finally land and wait for the go-ahead from the hostess to get off, one row after the other.
But no, nothing happens, doors closed. The pilot warns us that there is no energy on the ground. What will it mean? I don't know. After about ten minutes the energy finally arrives and in fact the air conditioning is stronger, but the doors remain closed. We are quite a few people, crammed into a little box and many cough and blow their noses. My niece returned the day before yesterday from Catania, three hours late and now she has Covid. In those narrow spaces of the plane I seem to be in a nursery for the coronavirus. I no longer have masks to put on and now I'm suffocating.
The commander's voice warns us that now there is no staff to bring us the ladder. They are looking for it. I see a nice steady ladder, parked not far from us and I dream that some hero is going down with a rope and bringing it to us.
More time passes. Finally comes the ladder. We can't wait to get out, but the doors remain closed.
The pilot still has something to tell us: now the lineup is there, but there are no buses to take us to the terminal. Or lack of staff, I did not understand.
Another time, we get back to reading and I'm amazed at the calmness of the passengers. Maybe it's resignation.
Finally they free us. AND about a quarter past midnight and together with all the others we rush towards the taxis, we can't wait to get home, ours is out of town and is about 20 kilometers from the airport. We had prudently booked a driver, but shortly before departure he called us to tell us that he had Covid and no one could replace him. We thought: what's the matter? The taxi strike starts tomorrow.
But now we realize that it's already tomorrow. And the taxi strike began.
Taxi, the wildcat strike: everyone on foot even at 87 years old
There are so many white taxis, all there, lined up and have no intention of moving.
As soon as we got off we met a friend of ours who is 87 years old, smart, but very tired and she also doesn't have a transport home.
We kindly ask the taxi drivers if they can give at least our friend a lift: the answer is "get by, take the bus", very rude. In the distance we see a bus crammed with people, walking towards the train station. By now we have lost it and then both we and she live far from the train station. In any case, we don't know when another bus will pass. The night thickens.
At this point Elvia goes to look for a friend's daughter who could give her a lift and we try to rent a car. No car available. So let's start calling all the blue cars we know and appear on the internet, but none of them are available between now and the day after tomorrow. Waking up friends and relatives at this hour is truly unthinkable. What to do?
Taxi, a driver doesn't feel like it: "Strike without rules, boomerang effect for Uber"
"Let's go on foot" I propose fearlessly. I am at least 20 kilometers of not exactly simple roadsbut I don't see any other solution. Leaving the airport I try to hitchhike, but nobody goes in our direction. When we are out of the area I see a standing taxi, with the interior lit up and the driver fiddling with his mobile phone. I have no more hope, but now I ask, I ask, I ask everyone. “Would you be available to take us home?”.
He looks up puzzled, is silent for a few seconds and then says: "get up". It feels like a miracle. While we whiz by with this good soul (who risks his face with his colleagues) I call our friend Elvia.
"You arrived?". She tearfully replies that no, she is still there. He didn't find the girl and she didn't find no one willing to take an 87 year old woman home.
I don't believe it. Then I ask our Guardian angel if he can do something and he does, he's available, as long as they meet a bit far from the center of the protest. He doesn't do it for the money, he does it because he thinks that a strike can't be like this, that we need to set boundaries - he says - establish timetables and guarantee services, especially for the elderly. And if the goal of the category is to keep Uber away, this strike will have a nice boomerang effect on public opinion. If public opinion still matters…
Here, we finally go down. We haven't arrived yet, because we forgot the key to the gate and to get home we have to go through the countryside. A couple of kilometers on foot are nothing now, it rained and it's even cool and then the Municipality of Bologna decided to hire street cleaners and to give back to street cleaning work and to the name of those who do it the dignity it deserves. This gives me hope. Maybe it has nothing to do with my story, but maybe it does. Maybe going back a bit to move forward isn't a bad thing.
I call Elvia, she cries with happiness this time. She arrived before us.
