My non-journalist friends are very envious that I get to go to Euro 2008 matches for free.

If they had been with me to Italy’s 1-1 draw with Romania in Zurich, they might have changed their mind about the perks of my profession.

First of all, a colleague and I had to cram into a packed tram full of drunken fans to get to the Letzigrund stadium. This was a full three hours before kick off. Then we had a manic match to report on, the mixed zone to contend with (Sonia has already detailed the horrors there) and by the time we’d finished we discovered we were locked in.

It was only after we’d walked round the stadium to find a way out that the fun really started. First of all, we discovered that even with a big tournament going on you can’t get a meal in a Zurich restaurant at quarter to eleven at night. That was annoying but much worse was to follow.

After a long walk to a well-known fast food chain outlet, we decided to take a taxi back to the hotel. Our taxi driver was already in a foul mood and when another car cut him up, he went bonkers.

He raced alongside the other car shouting wildly. When the guy he was berating started to wind down his window and reach into his jacket, we genuinely feared he was going to whip out a gun. Our driver then sped in front of him and I fully expected us to get rammed.

We got back to the hotel alive, although I didn’t feel all that fresh when I woke up at 6 am to write a match follow-up and catch an early flight back to Vienna.

For no apparent reason, Italy have based themselves near the Austrian capital despite the fact they are playing their Group C matches in Switzerland. 

My job doesn’t look so glamorous now, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Mark Meadows, following Italy at Euro 2008     

For most football fans, it would be a dream come true — go along and meet your favourite player and ask him anything you want.

That is the deluded view that led me to be excited when I was sent to my first “mixed zone”,  where players are available for quick interviews as they walk past reporters when leaving the stadium after a match.

Bruised and battered from a lot of tactical shoving and suffering from a severe overdose of testosterone (not ideal when you’re a woman), I’m thinking more war zone than mixed zone.

Elbows fly as dozens of hungry newshounds battle for position in the hope of getting a juicy quote — or most likely yet another tired cliché — from the player of the moment. You have to pick your position: avoid standing next to a cameraman (that’s a big bit of equipment to be hit with, trust me I know) and avoid anyone who may have dubious personal hygiene (you are going to get very close to them).

Then all you have to do is get the players’ attention while they saunter past looking like they really can’t be bothered.

One cunning ploy that I have noticed several times, particularly by radio and television journalists, is to bring along a beautiful woman (who definitely didn’t spend the last 90 minutes cramped in the media tribune hunched over a laptop) to act as bait to hook the player for an interview. Once they have reeled him in with a few pleasantries, the men ask the ‘proper’ questions.

I look on enviously, wondering why I have my nose up someone’s sweaty armpit, a dead arm from holding my dictaphone at an impossible angle and cramp from standing on tip-toes in the middle of the big huddle of reporters. Oh, and I can’t breathe because I am crushed against the barrier that keeps the poor footballers out of harm’s way. Thankfully, I’ve got a quote.

Forget elbowing and barging, next time I’m coming armed with some sharp stilettos…

PHOTO: Czech Republic’s Michal Kadlec listens to journalists’ questions after a training session in Seefeld, June 4, 2008. REUTERS/Petr Josek

For full coverage of Euro 2008 see here