"Che cosa sta succedendo?" Marco whispered to himself. What is happening?
He pressed a button on a remote control he pulled from his pocket. Suddenly, all the moving walkways reversed direction. A group of nuns heading to Fatima began gliding backward, their habits flapping like startled bats. A businessman’s rolling briefcase sped away from him, chased by a pack of bored children. aeroporto madrid pazzo
Then the luggage carousels started moving. Not in their usual slow, sleepy rotation. They spun backward, then forward, spitting out suitcases like cannonballs. A pink Hello Kitty suitcase shot across the polished floor and knocked over a row of stanchions. A grumpy security guard chased it, tripped over a stray rollerblade, and landed in the arms of a pilot from Iberia, who—instead of helping him up—dipped him like a tango dancer. "Che cosa sta succedendo
"Sí," the man grinned. "But tonight, so is everyone." Suddenly, all the moving walkways reversed direction
And then, at exactly 3:33 AM, the lights snapped back. The screens flickered— ( Flight to Bogotá – Boarding ). The moving walkways moved forward again. The carousels sat still.
"Bienvenido a Madrid. Ahora sí puedes irte. Pero volverás." ( Welcome to Madrid. Now you can leave. But you will return. )