Friday, late afternoon. I have spent most of the week in Rome for the Prix Italia and plenty of EBU side meetings. The weather was just great (28 degrees and sunny) and the food … too Italian. I was looking forward to head to Brussels to catch up with friends and family. I arrived just in time at the gate to board. Looked like 300 people where all packed around the gate to Brussels. At the gate control my ticket gave a red alert. “This is the gate to Catania”, a handsome Italian steward told me. Indeed, I was a the wrong gate. I literally had to move eight meters to the right to be in the queue to Brussels. Another eight meters to…