Live from the Western Front

Convinced that advanced planning is the most integral part of a project, I admit to freaking out in an attempt to address every possible scenario I might face during seven weeks in Europe. I packed and re-packed my suitcase four times. By Monday morning however, I finally reassured myself that my research was done. I was prepared to relax and enjoy my adventure.

Mom dropped me and my "mother of all suitcases" off at the airport curb. I checked in and boarded my plane uneventfully. The flight was ever so slightly bumpy from Orlando to Dulles, but nothing to write home about (I do it here out of sheer gratuitous drama). As we descended into Washington, the skies were dark. We were 500 feet from touchdown, when the pilot aborted the landing and flew 25 minutes south to Richmond, Virginia.

As we flew away, I wasn't too alarmed. We were safe, and the situation was being communicated . . . but what didn't I know? I began to recall the events of September 11th, and considered that I had been landing at an airport in the nation's capital. I had relatives in Richmond if it came to that, but what exactly were things coming to? (Cue dramatic music: dun-dun-duuuuunnh?)

After about an hour in Richmond, it was explained that a wind shear had been detected while we were landing and all scheduled flights to Dulles between 3pm and 5pm had been diverted to other cities or asked not to take off from their origins. The storm was the same system that had flattened towns with Tornados and flooded most of Iowa the previous weekend.

In the plane, we watched Horton Hears a Who, ate granola bars and drank water. It was do-able, and the United Staff were troopers. By 6:30 we were taking off from Richmond. Our savvy pilot, first to reach Richmond, filed a flight-plan as soon as he arrived, so he was the first to depart. I got to Dulles about 7:05 and found that my flight to Munich left on time at 5:28pm.

The airport was a riot of people hording the customer service queue. All wanted to be the first to re-book their seats to their final destinations. I wandered in a stupor about where to begin, and the spirits lead me into the "United Red Carpet Club", a business-traveler's lounge. There I found agents helping dramatically fewer people to rebook their tickets. I had to wait about 30 minutes for assistance, but it was certainly less than the round the block lines in the main hall.

A clever agent named Carlos told me I would probably have to stay overnight and fly to Germany the next day . . . but wait! Then he discovered he could get me on the last business class seat to Frankfurt . . . and glory of glories . . . there were ample seats to Berlin on a consecutive flight. But what about my bags, I asked Mr. Carlos C.? (Note notation of employee name and promise) He made some noises, typed some figures . . . and assured me the bag would be forwarded to the plane in time.

You see where this is going don't you.

So, lickety-split I was off for Frankfurt with a thousand disgruntled passengers. I made it safely to Berlin . . . badly jet-lagged . . . in a sweat-stained shirt and crusty underwear and socks . . . standing at the end of a conveyor belt, waiting for my friend "Baggy" to bring that "hug of home" back into my life. One by one all the other disgruntled passengers picked up their bags and disappeared, until I was there with four other people blinking and listening to the crickets in the arrival hall. To add insult to injury, when the last bag had been sent up, a small sign, written in English, followed. "End of Bags."

There was no mistaking it. Baggy was AWOL. I raised my rotten potato into the sunset colored silhouette and vowed. "As God as my witness, I will never pack my toiletries again!!"

My modest exposure to German enabled me to find people who would rather speak in English to me, than have me pant and cackle out my pigeon German: "Me no bag. Lufthansa take Baggy. Make Bye-bye. Where Baggy?! Baggy Black with zippy thing. When Baggy Come." You get the idea . . . And that was all in English. They had to ask me to come out of the fetal position and stand up. They assured me (like Carlos) that Baggy would come tomorrow. I resigned myself to the circumstance.

Excellent directions conducted me quickly to my corporate apartment in lower Charlottensburg.

The apartment is nicer than I originally thought, and larger . . . with high ceilings and large windows. Many fears were laid to rest . . . but that was all that could be laid to rest. Though exhausted, I could not lay down. I had a mission. I had to find an ATM that took the American Express corporate card. I had to get clean underwear and a shirt for work the next day, and I had to eat. I had gone most of Tuesday with only an airplane fruit-bowl and a croissant in my stomach.

I headed down the Kufurstendam to find the ATM in my crusty underwear and sweaty shirt at 5pm. I felt like a dirty sock. But the rest of the story is uneventful. I did find the ATM, a shirt, underwear, and a bowl of asparagus soup. Yes, they were abandoned there on the Ku-dam by some hoboes. Just kidding. (This will kill my boss . . . a bowl of soup and a bottle of water cost me 9 Euros!!! About 12 dollars USD). I stumbled home and fell into bed at 9pm. I was asleep before you could say "Coma."

Of course about midnight I was wide awake. Hmm. I'm hungry. My mind's racing. It wants to wake up and do something. I indulged. I explored the dark apartment. Thank Goodness a colleague had left a measly half-roll of toilet paper, or I would have been *&^% out of luck. I found T-bags and sugar. I made some hot tea. I found pasta and Vegetable broth powder. I literally made a Lipton's cup o' soup from scratch in a mug.

Back to sleep I went. It felt great to shower and dress in clean clothes the next morning. On the way to the office, the airport called to say they could deliver Baggy . . . but I didn't want to “not show” at work for the second day in a row. I arranged to have the bag brought between 5 and 8pm that evening.

Thanks to my family and colleagues for their support. It got me through all of these minor obstacles. I hope the re-telling made you laugh. Now though, I must get to work.