The arrival home
Hey there all! I made it! Safe and sound, without much trouble. It was an adventure - it kind of went something like this -
After a night of carousing with a bunch of American business men, and some british people they picked up on the way, Josephine and I said our good byes as I stepped into a taxi, very hollywood, and I was whisked away to my hostal for my final evening.
Three hours later, at 4ish, my alarm went off and I drudgingly pulled my slightly drunk body out of bed, tossed it into a shower, and prepared for the treck (normally a short walk, but I have two backpacks, a toiletries bag, and two suitcases to carry) to the trainstaion. I get all of my stuff into the elevator, toss my key to the security guard at the hostal, and lug my, well, luggage with me to the train staion down the road, pump my money into a machine, and get my incredibly valuable ticket. I'm running a little behind, but still have 20 minutes until the train comes, so I"m doing okay. There is nothing on earth that could possibly make me miss this flight. I am so ready to go home and use a bathroom, without having to lock my bedroom or listen to other people do a group sing-a-long at 2 am.
The train comes as scheduled, and, with some help, I get me and my crap into the train car, and then hope that the train speeds up, because, with stops, it looks like we're going to be a little late arriving to the airport, and at a 6:00 arrival (it's the earliest I could get there, because that's when the airport opens) I'm cutting it close for an international flight.
Train arrives, I get off, the moving sidewalks aren't moving, so I haul my ass with my junk up the long ramp and across the sky walk, down an elevator and down to the opposite side of the road, where I follow the signs for British Air (yes, British Air) has their desk.
Now, at 6 am, slightly drunk, very tired, and incredibly over the idea of carrying my luggage around, I wasn't too happy to find that there's no signs in Barcelona Airport Terminal A to the British Air desk. So, I wander around a bit, trying to find someone who speaks English to point me the right way, figure out where I have to go, and on the way stop at the board to check the status of my flight. Hmmm . let's see, Iberia flights, Delta flights, oh yes, there it is, British Air . . . CANCELED!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE F**K??? As I turn my head angrily from the ominous board, flashing in angry red colors that awful word, I look down the hall and see the crowd of angry people, using tickets and carry-ons as pitch forks and torches, crying out angrily for an explanation. Perfect! I found the British Air desk.
Upon arrival at the mob I get handed a nice cordial letter explaning that the catering service (which also contains the luggage handlers, ticket takers, and candlestick makers in the union) is on strike. SO - I wait in line. And, when I'm next to be served, I get transfered to another line, where I am 5th to be served, and, when I'm 2nd to be served in that line, I get transfered to another line - the whole process taking about 3 hours. In the middle of the 4th hour, I get my tickets for Iberia to Frankfurt (which means I'm not going to London, so I'm not meeting my friend Alex to give her back her backpack, which means I have to ship that baby home from the US - splendid!) . This blessed ticket allows me to jump in yet another line, hand my luggage (which has followed me, with great effort, to each line) to the man behind the counter, and collect my boarding pass. I now have about 45 minutes until my flight. And I haven't gone thru security yet. Great.
SO - the race begins. I get in my 5th line to go thru security, pass the scanning, buzz on down to the breakfast counter to collect my complimentary crossiont and orange juice, down the orange juice like a shot, and head to my terminal, call Joe (which wakes him up at 3 am) to tell him about the change, and board the plane without much trouble. Leg one, success!
It's a two hour flight from Barcelona to Frankfurt (hey I made it to Germany after all!!), and I chat it up with the german next to me who looks at my itinerary. And he gives me more bad news . . . aparently there are two terminals in Germany - and I have to go from the end of one to the end of another, which is a journey of about a kilometer. And I have twenty minutes from the landing of one plane to the boarding of another. Which, I figure if I move really quickly Ican do. Except that in Germany you have to go thru security and customs all over again, which will definitely slow me down. Wonderful.
The plane lands and I BOOK IT! I'm practically running down the hall, up a couple escalators, jump the train that moves people from one terminal to another, get down to security, go thru the scanning, getting stopped because I was wearing a jacket, there's a disagreement between the two officers as to whether I need to take off my jacket before I walk thru the metal detector, to which I say "umm, sorry to interrupt, but that boarding announcement there, that's for my flight. Can we straighten this out a little quicker please" - they forget about the jacket, pass their wand over me, and point me to the large mass of people waiting to hand the lone customs person their passport and explain why they're making a connection in Germany. You've got to be kidding me. I wait for about 3 minutes before approaching the incredibly armed guard (took balls, let me tell you) to ask him if I could jump in front of the 100 people in front of me to get to my flight. And I do. Whew! Sign says gate C - I must be close! I'm now down to about 5 minutes to get to my flight. Fantastic. I make it to gate C, look for door 7, and find an arrow pointing me down a narrow hallway, down an escalator, and down yet another hallway before I get to the boarding gate. Upon arrival (completely out of breath and incredibly low on patience) I am told that my boarding pass is incorrect, and I need to talk to the lady behind me. Who is chatty cathy on the phone with a friend of hers in yet another language that I don't speak. I really have to work on that.
So I wait. And wait. I clear my throat, I hear them call final boarding, I wait. and FINALLY that damned woman shuts up, hangs up the phone and acknowledges my presence. She glances at my inadequate boarding pass, looks at her screen and tells me that my seat hasn't been paid for in full, to which I say "what would you like me to do about that at his moment, seeing as the bus to the plane is going to be leaving any minute" - she says "I just thought you should know" (right, because it was a HUGE concern of mine that I got bumped up to Business class for free by British Air for the Lufthansa flight - NOT my problem). I get my appropriate boarding pass, run thru the doors tossing my boarding pass at the very tired looking attendent, slip thru the closing doors of the bus and celebrate making it onto this flight. I told you, hell on earth could not keep me from catching this flight. PLUS - I'm business class!
The rest of the flight went quite smoothly. We were delayed in take off because of a thunderstorm, then had change our path to go over greenland instead of heading straight across the ocean, adding another 45 minutes onto the flight, but that's okay, because I have the choice of a variety of movies (15), cds (90), video games (10) and wines (endless supply) to choose from for my entertainment on my flight. When I get tired of flipping thru my selections, I can recline my seat to a flat bed, flip up my privacy screen and take a nap, all comfortable in my socks and eye cover. I was fed an appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert, then later a snack and another dessert, meanwhile the wine cart kept passing, always followed by a warm roll and some apple butter. I didn't really mind the extra hour at all :) I was able to chat it up with the business men around me, hear about their travels and such. Over all it was a delightful flight. Travel Lufthansa, it is a great airline!
We landed in DTW, and detroit has never looked so good! There was sun, and a breeze and I was back in the US. YAY!
And then I went to get my luggage. I got myself a cart, all ready to collect the miriad of bags that I had and head thru customs to meet Joey. And the bags came . . . and went. And none of them were mine. Not one. Not one of my three bags made it to Detroit. Apparently they all liked Germany so much they thought they'd stay. Going thru customs, the man looked at me and said "is that all the luggage you have miss?" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So, I smiled and said "That's all the luggage you folks gave me" - so he pointed me in the direction of the Lufthansa office to make my claim.
Poor Joe has been waiting for an hour :( But I made it thru the gate, found his smiling face, claimed my baggage and the rest is history! The great Lufthansa people dropped the bags off at my Moms Saturday nigh/early Sunday morning, so no worries there. And I'm very happy to be back in the States, having missed you all very much. Now, I just need to find a job - so any news of any teaching positions should be forwarded on to me :) Thanks again for all following my blog and keeping up with this great adventure. There will be more to come, that's for sure (especially dependent on where I end up teaching!), and you're all welcome to follow along with me on those too.
My photos are supposed ot be done soon, so I'll post an open invitation to all you bloggers out there to stop on by and check out my pictures, some Sangria and pan con tomato :) SO - I'll see you all soon!!
After a night of carousing with a bunch of American business men, and some british people they picked up on the way, Josephine and I said our good byes as I stepped into a taxi, very hollywood, and I was whisked away to my hostal for my final evening.
Three hours later, at 4ish, my alarm went off and I drudgingly pulled my slightly drunk body out of bed, tossed it into a shower, and prepared for the treck (normally a short walk, but I have two backpacks, a toiletries bag, and two suitcases to carry) to the trainstaion. I get all of my stuff into the elevator, toss my key to the security guard at the hostal, and lug my, well, luggage with me to the train staion down the road, pump my money into a machine, and get my incredibly valuable ticket. I'm running a little behind, but still have 20 minutes until the train comes, so I"m doing okay. There is nothing on earth that could possibly make me miss this flight. I am so ready to go home and use a bathroom, without having to lock my bedroom or listen to other people do a group sing-a-long at 2 am.
The train comes as scheduled, and, with some help, I get me and my crap into the train car, and then hope that the train speeds up, because, with stops, it looks like we're going to be a little late arriving to the airport, and at a 6:00 arrival (it's the earliest I could get there, because that's when the airport opens) I'm cutting it close for an international flight.
Train arrives, I get off, the moving sidewalks aren't moving, so I haul my ass with my junk up the long ramp and across the sky walk, down an elevator and down to the opposite side of the road, where I follow the signs for British Air (yes, British Air) has their desk.
Now, at 6 am, slightly drunk, very tired, and incredibly over the idea of carrying my luggage around, I wasn't too happy to find that there's no signs in Barcelona Airport Terminal A to the British Air desk. So, I wander around a bit, trying to find someone who speaks English to point me the right way, figure out where I have to go, and on the way stop at the board to check the status of my flight. Hmmm . let's see, Iberia flights, Delta flights, oh yes, there it is, British Air . . . CANCELED!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE F**K??? As I turn my head angrily from the ominous board, flashing in angry red colors that awful word, I look down the hall and see the crowd of angry people, using tickets and carry-ons as pitch forks and torches, crying out angrily for an explanation. Perfect! I found the British Air desk.
Upon arrival at the mob I get handed a nice cordial letter explaning that the catering service (which also contains the luggage handlers, ticket takers, and candlestick makers in the union) is on strike. SO - I wait in line. And, when I'm next to be served, I get transfered to another line, where I am 5th to be served, and, when I'm 2nd to be served in that line, I get transfered to another line - the whole process taking about 3 hours. In the middle of the 4th hour, I get my tickets for Iberia to Frankfurt (which means I'm not going to London, so I'm not meeting my friend Alex to give her back her backpack, which means I have to ship that baby home from the US - splendid!) . This blessed ticket allows me to jump in yet another line, hand my luggage (which has followed me, with great effort, to each line) to the man behind the counter, and collect my boarding pass. I now have about 45 minutes until my flight. And I haven't gone thru security yet. Great.
SO - the race begins. I get in my 5th line to go thru security, pass the scanning, buzz on down to the breakfast counter to collect my complimentary crossiont and orange juice, down the orange juice like a shot, and head to my terminal, call Joe (which wakes him up at 3 am) to tell him about the change, and board the plane without much trouble. Leg one, success!
It's a two hour flight from Barcelona to Frankfurt (hey I made it to Germany after all!!), and I chat it up with the german next to me who looks at my itinerary. And he gives me more bad news . . . aparently there are two terminals in Germany - and I have to go from the end of one to the end of another, which is a journey of about a kilometer. And I have twenty minutes from the landing of one plane to the boarding of another. Which, I figure if I move really quickly Ican do. Except that in Germany you have to go thru security and customs all over again, which will definitely slow me down. Wonderful.
The plane lands and I BOOK IT! I'm practically running down the hall, up a couple escalators, jump the train that moves people from one terminal to another, get down to security, go thru the scanning, getting stopped because I was wearing a jacket, there's a disagreement between the two officers as to whether I need to take off my jacket before I walk thru the metal detector, to which I say "umm, sorry to interrupt, but that boarding announcement there, that's for my flight. Can we straighten this out a little quicker please" - they forget about the jacket, pass their wand over me, and point me to the large mass of people waiting to hand the lone customs person their passport and explain why they're making a connection in Germany. You've got to be kidding me. I wait for about 3 minutes before approaching the incredibly armed guard (took balls, let me tell you) to ask him if I could jump in front of the 100 people in front of me to get to my flight. And I do. Whew! Sign says gate C - I must be close! I'm now down to about 5 minutes to get to my flight. Fantastic. I make it to gate C, look for door 7, and find an arrow pointing me down a narrow hallway, down an escalator, and down yet another hallway before I get to the boarding gate. Upon arrival (completely out of breath and incredibly low on patience) I am told that my boarding pass is incorrect, and I need to talk to the lady behind me. Who is chatty cathy on the phone with a friend of hers in yet another language that I don't speak. I really have to work on that.
So I wait. And wait. I clear my throat, I hear them call final boarding, I wait. and FINALLY that damned woman shuts up, hangs up the phone and acknowledges my presence. She glances at my inadequate boarding pass, looks at her screen and tells me that my seat hasn't been paid for in full, to which I say "what would you like me to do about that at his moment, seeing as the bus to the plane is going to be leaving any minute" - she says "I just thought you should know" (right, because it was a HUGE concern of mine that I got bumped up to Business class for free by British Air for the Lufthansa flight - NOT my problem). I get my appropriate boarding pass, run thru the doors tossing my boarding pass at the very tired looking attendent, slip thru the closing doors of the bus and celebrate making it onto this flight. I told you, hell on earth could not keep me from catching this flight. PLUS - I'm business class!
The rest of the flight went quite smoothly. We were delayed in take off because of a thunderstorm, then had change our path to go over greenland instead of heading straight across the ocean, adding another 45 minutes onto the flight, but that's okay, because I have the choice of a variety of movies (15), cds (90), video games (10) and wines (endless supply) to choose from for my entertainment on my flight. When I get tired of flipping thru my selections, I can recline my seat to a flat bed, flip up my privacy screen and take a nap, all comfortable in my socks and eye cover. I was fed an appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert, then later a snack and another dessert, meanwhile the wine cart kept passing, always followed by a warm roll and some apple butter. I didn't really mind the extra hour at all :) I was able to chat it up with the business men around me, hear about their travels and such. Over all it was a delightful flight. Travel Lufthansa, it is a great airline!
We landed in DTW, and detroit has never looked so good! There was sun, and a breeze and I was back in the US. YAY!
And then I went to get my luggage. I got myself a cart, all ready to collect the miriad of bags that I had and head thru customs to meet Joey. And the bags came . . . and went. And none of them were mine. Not one. Not one of my three bags made it to Detroit. Apparently they all liked Germany so much they thought they'd stay. Going thru customs, the man looked at me and said "is that all the luggage you have miss?" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So, I smiled and said "That's all the luggage you folks gave me" - so he pointed me in the direction of the Lufthansa office to make my claim.
Poor Joe has been waiting for an hour :( But I made it thru the gate, found his smiling face, claimed my baggage and the rest is history! The great Lufthansa people dropped the bags off at my Moms Saturday nigh/early Sunday morning, so no worries there. And I'm very happy to be back in the States, having missed you all very much. Now, I just need to find a job - so any news of any teaching positions should be forwarded on to me :) Thanks again for all following my blog and keeping up with this great adventure. There will be more to come, that's for sure (especially dependent on where I end up teaching!), and you're all welcome to follow along with me on those too.
My photos are supposed ot be done soon, so I'll post an open invitation to all you bloggers out there to stop on by and check out my pictures, some Sangria and pan con tomato :) SO - I'll see you all soon!!
posted by Chandi at 7:45 PM
3 Comments:
So....now what? :-p
So now ..... Chandi - oh excuse me, I mean, "Miss Perry" - is a teacher. That's right, she has a teaching position right here in Michigan! I'm sure she would love to tell you all about it if you just to ask.
Miss Perry, shes like my teacher.
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