Six.

The airport is overwhelmingly large, and I missed where you pick up a complementary ticket. I found an information desk, informed the lady on the desk that I am on the autistic spectrum: especially in busy, crowded, fast paced, illuminated spaces; I can't cope with it at all. No amount of antidepressants will ever help my feeling of helplessness in these situations. But it is over. I'm on the train as the lady went and got me a ticket. And I was the last person onboard. Phew.

A man speaks in a French voice so very fast on the tannoy: it's rabid. I felt like the lad from the Incident of the Dog in the Night. I wanted to crawl into a small space and escape (not nice) to wait for my brain to stop pulsating. Now I'm relaxed on a lesser, slower, more peaceful and speechless train.