I assumed the reduced volume of travelers offset the added security measures. The latter, however, seemed to include nothing more than a few extra inquiries by people who looked 18 years old. I assured him I was carrying none, other than my tongue.
Airports are ghastly places under any circumstance.
And, with two hours and 45 minutes until my flight, I was reduced to loitering in the coffee shop, browsing the Internet on one of those devices that look like video arcade games and function cost-wise like slot machines. When I dropped my last peseta coin, I even perused the duty-free Lacoste shop and came close to buying a shirt in a color unknown to nature. Of course, it was all a ruse, a pretense of normality. By the time I got on the plane, I was nearly catatonic with boredom. Our departure time arrived and nothing happened.