Estocolmo

               
People love an easy life—but they love getting things cheaply even more.
Once, I had to fly to Stockholm. Of course, the cheapest option was a non-direct flight with an airline far removed from the luxury of Emirates-style service. I chose American Airlines, with a one-hour layover in Madrid, Spain.

On the morning my journey began, American Airlines decided it would be cheaper for them to put me on British Airways instead. As a result, I couldn’t check in online and had to wait in line at the airport to check in with an agent.

It seemed logical to choose the least expensive way to get me to JFK Airport. A friend drove me to Toms River, where I was supposed to take a bus to the Port Authority in New York City. In a crowd of passengers, I stood for an hour in the freezing cold because NJ Transit had reduced the number of direct buses to cut expenses. When a bus from Atlantic City finally arrived, the driver got off and began counting passengers.
“There are only twenty-nine seats available,” I heard someone’s desperate voice in the queue.
My heart sank.
“Twenty-five,” I heard as the driver passed me, and my heart leapt back into my chest. Life once again became easy.

As our plane approached Madrid, I asked a stewardess whether it was difficult to find the gate for my connecting flight to Stockholm.
“It’s easy—just follow the sign ‘Connecting Flights’,” she answered with a relaxed smile.

I felt relieved—too early, as it turned out. On the departure board, I couldn’t find a flight to Stockholm. There were only twenty minutes left before departure, and I rushed to the information desk. The girl behind it was pretty and looked very relaxed.
“Your gate is J41,” she said, glancing at her iPad without even lifting her head.
“Here in Spain, people also prefer an easy life,” I thought.
When I reached gate J41, there was no one around—and no airplane at the jet bridge. Only ten minutes remained before my flight.
“It looks like I’ll be spending the night in a hotel in Madrid. A cheap flight can turn out to be very expensive,” I thought.

“Last call for a passenger…” I heard.
Then the boarding agent at gate J50 pronounced my name.
After such a shock, it’s impossible to remain silent for long. Once Spain disappeared beneath the clouds, I told my story to the passenger sitting next to me.
“What city were you looking for on the departure board?” he asked with a smile after I finished.
“Stockholm, of course. In German, French, Italian—it always begins with the Latin letter S. Each country in Europe has the Latin alphabet. I couldn't miss it,” I replied.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “In Spanish, it’s Estocolmo.”
“Why is that?”
“Spanish language came from Vulgar Latin in the time when Rome conquered Spain. In Rome, Classical Latin was used by philosophers and poets like Virgil. Ordinary people and soldiers among them spoke Vulgar Latin in everyday life. It was easier for them to pronounce words by adding a vowel at the beginning. Most often it was the letter “E”.”

As he finished, I sat in silence. When everyone, since ancient times, wants life to be easy and cheap, it often becomes expensive and difficult for all.