I took some pictures on my way back to London, but I decided the emotional scarring of flying Alitalia was too great to be relived. We were late getting into Milan but it didn't matter because my connection was 45 minutes late, again for no reason at all. They don't even announce delays (forget about apologies!), they just change the departure screen. My flight into London arrived 30 minutes late, and then they bused us to a terminal entrance that they couldn't open. People were standing out in the cold for 15 minutes waiting to get inside. (I was lucky enough to get to stay on one of the buses.) By the time I got out to the curbside, I'd missed the shuttle to the airport hotel I'd booked by 10 minutes. So what would have been a 4-pound shuttle ride turned into a 12-pound cab ride. I don't even want to think about what that is in Canadian dollars. Freakin' Alitalia. Never again.

To be fair, there was one thing I liked about Alitalia: they had sign language on their safety video.




The next morning I happily boarded the Air Canada flight back to Toronto, and watched as the groundcrew put in a hard day's work.