The Transfer

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A 35-minute transfer at Vienna airport was always going to be tight, especially when arriving from non Schengen and heading out into the Schengen Zone. And now they were sitting on the ground in Sofia waiting for some tardy passenger to get on the plane, Roddy was watching the likelihood of him making his flight slip away like air from a punctured tyre; slow, inevitable but somehow giving him a little hope.

Roddy had sat at the back of the plane knowing there would be a bus at Vienna, there was always a bus at Vienna, the back would mean he could get off quickly and get on the bus. But as soon as they landed he got the feeling they were heading for a bridge. An air-bridge would be a nightmare, it’d take him half a year to get off the plane and he barely had half an hour. But an air-bridge it was.

Why are airports so bloody big? Roddy had taken a quick glance at the screen to check his gate and now was half jogging, half walking for what seemed like an age. He’d managed to jump the queue at passport so had saved a couple of minutes there, but he was still struggling. Gate D21. He followed the signs, sweat dripping off his brow, breathing hard. He daren’t look at his watch; he didn’t want to face the truth.

He rounded the corner and saw it, the queue for security. Roddy sighed. He found a woman with a radio and asked her if he could jump the queue. She smiled and shrugged.

‘Please.’ Roddy said almost falling to his knees.

The woman took pity on him and unhooked a retractable barrier letting him get to the front.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed and started taking off his belt and emptying his pockets.

Gate D1 was right next to security, but Gate D21 was at the other end of a corridor that was at least 200 metres long. Roddy took a deep breath and started on his latest trek. He had his belt in his pocket, his watch in his hand. There were people everywhere. Roddy slalomed in and out like a rugby winger sidestepping his way to the try line - D11, D13, D17, D19, and finally D21. He wondered what he looked like as he stuffed the passport and boarding card into the hands of the smiling check-in woman while trying to catch his breath.

She scanned his boarding card and frowned. He looked at her. Surely he hadn’t missed the plane.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said.

‘Um, this is the CSA flight to Prague, you’re booked on Austrian.’

‘What?’

‘You need Austrian. Gate G21.’

‘Where’s that?’ Roddy said.

‘In the other terminal about a 20 minute walk,’ the woman said and this time Roddy did fall to his knees.