it's fun to fly

Before reading this post, you must view the following clip by Brian Regan, one of my all-time favorite comedians.

On Saturday afternoon I arrived at the Cleveland airport ready to begin my trek back to Germany. My itinerary would take me through Chicago, London, and Basel. I cleared security in about 10 minutes and found my gate. Because it was an international flight, I'd arrived two hours early, only to find that my flight was delayed by one hour. This was not a problem since I had a two and a half hour layover in Chicago. As the time passed, I texted my mom and several friends. I kept checking the board to see if there were any changes to my flight, and to my dismay I saw that it was delayed another half hour. At this point I would have just about one hour in Chicago to catch my flight to London. At around 8:15 I checked the board one more time in hopes that my flight would be leaving earlier, but it had instead been delayed yet another half hour! Now there was no way I was going to catch my connection in Chicago. All this time, not a single airline agent was at the gate, but suddenly two appeared at next gate so I dashed down to find out what was going on. As it turned out, storms in Chicago has caused them to cancel several flights the night before and as a result, there was no crew to man my flight. Because of this, they rebooked me on a different flight with a different airline that wouldn't leave until Sunday afternoon.

So, I called my parents, who were just about to get into bed. They drove an hour to the airport, picked me up, got me dinner (I hadn't eaten because I was expecting dinner on the flight) and brought me home. I crashed. The next day we had just enough time for the worship and prayer segment of the church service before we had do go back to the airport.

My new flight was with a different airline, and somehow I managed to check two suitcases for free! The new itinerary was Clevelend to Newark to Frankfurt to Basel. So again, I breezed through security and found my gate. As I wandered around the terminal, I stopped to check my flight status. Of course. Delayed by a half hour. The gate agent then announced that due to storms in the area, nothing was permitted to land in Newark. Essentially, we were grounded until further notice, and who knew how long it would take for the storms to let up? Finally we were given a window of clearance to board the plane and take off, and we were informed that if we didn't get out by a certain time then Air Traffic Control might call us back to the gate! Argh!

So we get to New Jersey. I wait at my gate, now convinced that Satan is working overtime to keep me from getting back to BFA and wondering what's next. I didn't have to wait long. Within minutes of me arriving at my gate, the agent announced to the crowd that we would delay our takeoff by one hour due to the strong tailwind that we would catch on the way there. Apparantly airlines get fined if they arrive more than an hour early, and of course there is nowhere for the plane to go, so they decided to avoid that and simply delay takeoff. Brilliant.

So after being delayed an hour, we board the plane. I kid you not, from the time that I found my seat to the time that we took flight, I watched half of a movie. We sat on the runway for what seemed like an eternity waiting for some late passengers and then waiting for clearance for takeoff. The flight itself was incredibly uneventful except for the unusual amount of turbulance and that I experienced the "Flight Attendant Psychology Game" (did you watch the video?) where they pretend that the other mean options never even existed!

Then, I arrived in Frankfurt airport. I have now made this transatlantic flight five times, and this was the first time I went through Frankfurt. Let me tell you, Frankfurt is definitely not a favorite. I had to wait in this huge crowd of people to talk to a single gate agent holding a clipboard containing all of our connection information. I thought Germans prided themselves on being the most efficient? There was nothing efficient about this scene, just a bunch of tired, cranky adults pushing a shoving their way to the front of the line. Where was the hi-tech electronic board that just tells everyone all at once where to go next?

So I find my gate number and begin fumbling my way through the crowds searching for the gate. I go through passport control and suddenly find myself at a dead end. No signs, except for one that says "Exit." Panicked, I stand by the door until someone else comes along and explains that I must go through the exit door to find my gate. As the frosted door swings open, I breathe a sigh of relief and realize that I'm not actually exiting the airport. Security in Germany proves to be more challenging, as they question me about my bags and take me around to a secret room for some "special tests." This involved Mr. Security rubbing down my entire suitcase with a little white pad. I passed. What was he looking for, anyway?

From there things finally seemed to be going smoothly. You can't even imagine how thrilled I was to board the plane and find that barely one-tenth of the seats were filled. Unfortunately, this was my shortest flight (40 minutes) so I hardly had any time to enjoy the luxury of sprawling out over three seats. Figures.

Finally, the plane touched down in Basel, I collected my luggage (waiting at the carousel is like a mini anxiety attack!) and met the DeRenzo's outside the French doors. I couldn't help but laugh to myself at all the people waiting in the line to go through the Swiss doors as I strolled though the no-waiting French doors. Ah, the joys of a multi-country airport.

So, getting back to Germany proved to be quite the adventure. If you actually read this whole story, congratulations. You have more patience than I do!