I arrived at the testing center at 8:30 on a Monday morning. Nobody else there. Pay the money and suffer the indignities and discomfort of swabs deep in my throat and sinus, and I'm outta there. Piece of cake. I walked past the antigen testing center later, and saw there was a queue of maybe 10 waiting in the rain. I don't know what the cost is for the antigen test, but I'm ok with getting financially semi-soaked for the test itself, rather than the physical soaking waiting in line. Regardless, it's over and done. I shuffle back to the apartment, and hang out watching the rain fall.
Fast forward 24 hours and I have my result:
I was shaken, stunned. I was in complete disbelief. I'd foregone the insurance on my ticket because, well, I don't know, but I didn't buy it. I'd also booked a hotel on the other end for a few nights as a landing until I figured out longer term arrangements. Was I out the money? It wasn't budget-busting, but I don't like throwing away money. I briefly toyed with the idea of ignoring the test because it wasn't required for my flight anyway. I quickly discarded that thought because I'm not a dick.
On the positive side, I wouldn't have to worry about staying here longer, because my lodgings are set for as long as I want them. And, other than being colder that I like (it's cold and cloudy and the heater is rather inadequate to get the temp much past 62), and the fucking, non-stop barking dogs nearby, they are really nice. I could hang for a bit longer until I'm clear. I don't get Schengened outta here until the end of the month, so I have some time in that regard.
I had almost resigned myself to asymptomatic positive results when I popped the whole line in an online translator just to be crystal clear of the translation. Huh. Assente means absent.
I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Good thing. My few minutes of panic-planning and thought were for naught. Onward I go. Tropics, here I come.