Paris

It's two o'clock and I am in Le Marais with my friend still finishing my meal and trying desperately to catch the waiter's attention to settle the bill. My flight leaves at three fifty from Charles de Gaulle Airport.

At two thirty we are catching the train. We are cutting it very fine, as my flight closes at three fifteen... Finally at three o'clock we make it to the terminal 2. I say goodbye to my friend and start running towards the terminal 2E.

I find one of those machines to print my boarding pass and it tells me that I can't do it as my flight is already closed, so I find a young pimpled lad in one of the desks who rolls his eyes at me looking at the time, prints my boarding pass and just says one word to me: Run!!!!!!! while pointing at a very long corridor.

I run for my life, only to find that I must catch a train to get to where my gate is.... It's already three fifteen.

The staff at the security see my face and grab my suitcase while, still running I take my shoes off and jump through the metal detector, passing me the suitcase and answering my voiceless question with a handful of fingers pointing at another interminable corridor. L35. I'm next to number 1. More voices shout Run!!!!! at me, my suitcase dancing, hardly touching the floor while my heals hit the ground like a drumming solo.

I finally arrive at my gate, 3.35 looking more like a cartoon than like a person. My leaping heart is visible under the layers of clothing, sking and the armour of the rib cage. My eyes popping out, my forehead and armpits covered in dewy sweat. The gate is empty, all the passengers gone. I show my boarding pass to the stewardess who, with one look at me, takes pity and makes a phone call to hold the bus that leads to the plane, and taking me by the hand and holding my suitcase accompanies me to the awaiting bus.

Vive Air France. I've never got that kind of service with the Rayanair bastards!!!!