The road to Tenerife is paved with four inches of snow. At least, that was the case for this trip. So while the warmth of the largest Canary Island waited off the coast of Morocco, my plane sat in the Brussels airport buried in snowflakes. At first it seemed just a minor delay – only a half hour waiting for the bus to take us to the Airbus A320. Brussels had seen snow before, I reminded myself, and this didn’t seem like that much. The snow coming in on the train was fluffy; beautiful, in fact. Okay, it was cold, even frigid, but a little ice is easy to handle. No matter, we were ready to board the transport.
“Excusez-moi, Mesdames et Messieurs.” “Neem me niet kwalijk, dames en heren.”
This can’t be good, I thought. The announcement repeated over the airport intercom. Somehow the mere introduction, in French and Dutch, was enough to create a wave of incredulous groaning from the passengers impatiently dawdling in the concourse. We all knew what was coming.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to inform you that the airport is now closed because of the weather. We will keep you posted as to when the status changes. Thank you.”
The next three hours seemed like forever. The din from hundreds of disgruntled travelers calling their bosses, spouses, paramours, and travel agents was deafening. No one was happy, but then in oft-rainy Brussels no one ever seems to be happy. Most of us wandered around, looking to see if anyone else was taking off (they weren’t) or giving up and leaving the airport (they were). I had an overnight stopover in Madrid, so knowing that I had some time to kill anyway, decided to stick it out, keeping myself company watching the television monitor documenting the snowfall accumulations.
Somehow I survived, though whether it was despite not having a cell phone of my own, or because of it, I can’t be sure. All I remember is that eventually we were told to board the bus, which took fifteen minutes to snake around the entire terminal (possibly twice) before letting us off about 50 feet from the plane. The slog through snow drifts at least a foot deep, and the climb up the slippery steps to the fuselage, was a challenge. Then more time waiting our turn at the de-icing station where we spent another ten minutes under a waterfall of what I knew from experience was not the most innocuous of chemicals. I didn’t care; we were off the ground. Tenerife or bust.
I found out later that I was in the last plane to leave Brussels that day. Only six planes took off, the rest were stranded; some as long as two days. Ironically, on my first day in the tropical paradise I would discover that Tenerife also boasted frigid cold and snow. But that’s another story.
Check out this earlier look at The Orchids of Tenerife.
[More on Tenerife and other science travel coming soon. Reposted from Hot White Snow.]
David J. Kent is an avid traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, now available. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (both Fall River Press). He has also written two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.
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Many years ago I lived in Bermuda for a college semester. There were 15 of us learning how to be marine biologists while living at the Bermuda Biological Station for Research. For two months we studied, we dived, we snorkeled, we spent hours bent over equipment in the laboratory searching for microscopic parasites. Fun was had by all.
A year ago I wrote some 
Thud.
