As I mentioned in my last post, I've had some less-than-fun times while traveling by air. Individually, each of these scenarios wouldn't have been too traumatizing. However, the fact that they all happened during the same trip and snowballed into a fairly massive cluster-F, kind of put a damper on things...
Well, here goes! (Abridged edition to be found at the bottom.)
The day started innocently enough. I got up, got ready and ate breakfast with the family for the final time. We said our good-byes - fighting tears the whole time, I might add - and off they went to work and school. Then, I had a bit of time to check every drawer and cabinet one last time before my friends arrived to bring me to the airport.
Our drive also went smoothly. We never got lot and experienced only minor traffic. Finding a parking spot was also no biggie. We made our way inside, and stood in line to check in my bags. Though the line was massive, we didn't have any problems until we actually got to the counter.
My first two flights were with the same airline. As such, I was supposed to receive my first two boarding passes in Hamburg. However, there was some kind of technical difficulty that only let the lady at the counter print out one. I would have to get my next boarding pass at the next airport during my layover. Fine. I could handle that. But then the lady made it her personal mission to figure out what the problem was. This problem, of course, had no easy answer, and her determination not only held up the line, but also forced me to stand at the counter needlessly an extra 10 minutes.
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| Icelandic Beer |
Going through security and finding my gate didn't take long. Taking off did. Because of an apparent lack of staff, we weren't able to take off for 30 minutes. Which significantly cut my layover time. I found the service desk pretty quickly (with the help of airport staff), but because of the delayed flight - and because the people in front of me in line took for-freaking-ever - I had to hustle to my gate. I made it in time, but I could have done without the stress.
The transatlantic flight was quite nice. I would almost go so far as to say it was fun. I was seated between to very nice ladies. I got caught up on some TV and movies I'd been meaning to see. I also purchased my last beers for a few months (they weren't all too tasty, but I wasn't in any position to be picky). Although, I have to say, it was a little strange having to purchase my food in-flight. All in all, I enjoyed that flight.
I landed in Boston with plenty of time, nearly two hours. Going through passport security was a breeze. Because I needed to transfer my checked bags, I made my way to the baggage carousel and arrived just as my first checked bag came onto the belt. Excited and relieved, I practically leapt at it and pulled it off the belt, and waited for my second one to arrive. As all the other passengers found their bags and moved on, I waited. And waited. And waited. My second bag never showed up.
Taking the advice of one of the security workers - seeing as my airline had zero representatives there who could help me - I just took the bag I had to the transfer desk. He said the people there would help me. Well, they didn't. Or at least not right away. The guy at the desk was new to the position, and didn't know what to tell me. He requested backup, but his co-worker took ages to show up. By the time he finally got there, I only had 10 minutes until my next flight departed. Seeing as they close the gates 10 minutes before departure, it goes without saying that I missed my flight.
I was frustrated, annoyed, sad, angry, distraught. So, with tears in my eyes, I made my way to my connecting airline's check-in desk and explained my situation. Because it was the airline's fault, the woman at the desk suggested I go the other airline's desk and ask for a hotel voucher. It was either that, or spend the night, alone, in the airport. After my stressful misadventure, I wanted to be able to get at least some sleep. So, I took my re-booked boarding passes, and went back to the other terminal.
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| Almost too big for one person. Almost. |
Fortunately, the girl at the check-in desk was really nice and willing to help me (my tearing up again probably didn't hurt, either). I had to wait around a bit for her supervisor to come, but I eventually did receive my hotel voucher - with $15 for room service, I might add. I made my way outside and waited for the hotel's shuttle to arrive.
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| Mmmmh... Mac'n'Cheese... |
When I finally got to the hotel, it was just as they stopped offering room service for the night. However, they were nice enough to make me a kid's meal of macaroni and cheese - my first real meal in nearly 15 hours. I barely slept, because I was so aufgeregt (nervous, excited, anxious, agitated all in one).
My flight left at 6:10. I wanted to be there at 5:45, at the very latest. However, the continental breakfast wasn't served until 5:30. Fortunately, when I checked out at 5:00, they were already setting up for breakfast. I was allowed to grab (and toast!) a bagel as well as a packet of cream cheese. I even made it to the shuttle and was at the airport by 5:30.
After that, everything was a breeze. Getting through security didn't take long at all. I found my gate easily. My seat was on the aisle, so I could quickly get up and get out. My next flight was similar. I was on the aisle again, and my seat was in the first row behind first class. I even got a little nap in.
I cannot even begin to describe how excited I was to be back on my home turf. I practically danced through the terminal. Seeing
cheeseheads for the first time in over a year was magical. I cried when I hugged my parents. Everything was right in the world! ... Or so I thought.
We went down to the baggage carousel only to find that now neither of my bags were to be found. We even waited 20 minutes for the next flight's luggage to arrive. Nothing. So, I filled out a missing bag claim, and we left.
We met up with my brothers and ate lunch. Then, I was off to a music festival. When I got home from that - sometime around midnight - I received a call from a strange number. Apparently, my baggage had turned up, and someone was trying to deliver it, but couldn't read my house's street address. So, I ran outside to see a guy in a car with my baggage! Let me clarify. He had one bag. The other was still missing. That one wouldn't yet be delivered for another week. However, everything was there and intact. At least there was that.
tl;dr: Due to my bags getting lost and no one being around who could tell me what to do in a timely fashion, at 17-hour trip turned into a 35-hour one. A giant bar of German chocolate was the only thing keeping me sane through it all.
I kind of wish I had taken more pictures along the way... Oh, well... Hindsight is always 20/20, they say.
Bis dann!
