Marco stood in the middle of the terminal, covered in confetti, out of breath, and smiling like a fool.
"You are pazzo," Marco said.
"Bienvenido a Madrid. Ahora sí puedes irte. Pero volverás." ( Welcome to Madrid. Now you can leave. But you will return. ) aeroporto madrid pazzo
Marco rubbed his eyes. Next to him, a German businessman in a starched white shirt shrugged. "Probably a hacker," he muttered. But then the PA system, instead of the usual robotic boarding announcements, began playing a frantic flamenco guitar, the rhythm so fast it sounded like a heart attack. Marco stood in the middle of the terminal,