After a late night, thanks to my usual night before travel
jitteriness and lack of sleep, 4:30 a.m. came way too early. Ruth and I both seemed to wake up at the same
time, about 15 minutes before our alarm was set. Each of us, when on our own, is capable of
being up and ready to roll in twenty to thirty minutes, but two ladies
traveling together need to extend the time frame to allow for modesty and
talking! We had our suitcases in the hall
and were on our way to breakfast on the Aquavit Terrace at five. Had to call and cancel the back-up 5:15
wake-up call on the way out of the cabin.
The ship was sleepily approaching the new day. The darkness around us was emphasized by the
glowing lights of the Papal City to our starboard. A buffet of fruit, cereal, rolls, and yogurt
was set. Typical of a European
breakfast, there was also a selection of meats and cheeses. I made myself a couple of croissant ham and
cheese sandwiches to take along. You
never know when you are flying what will be served and when.
Back in the cabin a final potty stop and tooth brushing, one
last look around our home away from home, and we were on our way to our airport
chariot – bus. We said goodbye to the
desk staff as we left our key cards and Mia, in her usual graciousness, told us
our bus was waiting. We were a little
early, our bags were not yet there. The
same staff that waits tables, and the few that are below decks dragged the bags
the block to the parking area. Directly
in front of our ship there was not a safe and easy street access. Every day we had been following this path but
there was some confusion at the limited street parking. Buses from different ships were intermingled. One day we boarded the German bus and that
might have been fun, but they quickly found us out! Maybe because we didn’t greet them with Guten Morgan.
This morning I waited to identify our bags while Ruth
secured our window seats for the hour fifteen drive to Marseilles from Avignon. The Captain herself was bringing some of the
suitcases as by now we were behind schedule and the 6:30 people were beginning
to gather. Even with the delay we had
plenty of time before our flights.
Viking has someone meet us at the airport and lead us into the terminal,
up a couple of escalators and across to the proper check in zones. Most of us were on Air France, a Delta
partner, and heading to Amsterdam. A few
were on a United partner to Frankfurt.
At ticketing, Ruth went ahead of me and we would meet on the
other side of security. I placed my bag
on the scale and it was tagged as soon as my passport was scanned. Luckily when the agent said I was all set and
to enjoy my flight to Amsterdam, I thought to ask if my bag was checked
straight through to Atlanta. He said it
wasn’t because I wasn’t going to Atlanta.
I told him that I had checked in online all the way through but he said
no, just to Amsterdam. He told me I had
no flight to Atlanta for me or my bag!
When I told him the flight number he asked for my ticket. My print out was in the big folder in my bag
instead of in the case with my passport.
Uh oh! So he said take my time,
not making those behind me happy, but I sure did not want to pick up my bag in
Amsterdam, go through customs, and recheck it.
As it turned out, that was an extra lucky thing to avoid! I came first to the very nice itinerary
booklet that Viking sends. In it was my
flight reservation number and he was able to quickly find me in his computer
and recheck me through to Atlanta. Yea
for small victories and peace of mind.
At security, the school teacher from Rochester N. Y with
whom we had had dinner one evening was stuck in security. She was in a panic. She had two bags to carry on. When her large carry on could not go through
she tried to cross to hand the small bag to her friend the CIA agent. They stopped her twice and then finally, the
security guard took her bag and handed it to her friend. It didn’t go through the scanner. They were trying to give her options and she
just kept asking, will they charge me to check it? She returned back toward the
check in…in tears.
I always get the pat down.
The new machines do not scan for metal, like a titanium reconstructed
knees. They scan for misshapen
places. Well, my left knee and right
shoulder always get little yellow boxes on the screen! After all, my shoulder has been described as
“road kill!”
On the other wide was the Rochester friend, the CIA agent!
{?} Didn’t think you could tell that to
strangers even if you were retired. She
explained that the school teacher, who had traveled often, put her Chateauneuf
de Papes wine in her carry on. It would
have been cheaper to throw the wine away than pay for a second checked
bag. The CIA lady had to use the bathroom
and asked me to watch her growing collection of carry-ons. While doing this, Ruth showed up. I was surprised since she had been way ahead
of me, I thought. Turned out she had
gone back to a pre-security rest room.
At security she had needed to remove her shoes but I didn’t. Not really very consistent safety plan.
We waited not very long for our flight and when boarding
discovered we were not seated together.
Probably because I always choose a window seat, not over the wing, so I
may have changed the assigned seating long before we left home. I must admit that I do not remember if they
fed us anything but I vaguely recall some sort of roll and several cups of
tea! The whole flight was pretty
unmemorable and the landing in Amsterdam was, as always, actually in
Haarlem. The taxi to a gate is about
seven miles over scenic canals and tulip fields.
When we finally reached the gate, Ruth and I immediately
started the long, very long trek through Schiphol. It is a very nice and somewhat unique airport. Much like Singapore, it does not have a
central security place so people can meet flights and see people off within the
airport. We separated toward our
different gates and the last I saw of Ruth she was saying she would see me soon
and making a Choo-Choo motion with her right arm! This was to remind me that I would be
confined to an evil therapy chair moving my new bionic shoulder after my
upcoming June surgery!
The reason that there is not a central security check is
that security is done at each glass enclosed gate. This is a great system. You are only in line with the 300 or 400
people on your same flight. Generally,
I really like this system as it is faster.
There is comfortable seating at the gate and you go downstairs to a rest
room area so that you don’t have to go out and in again. Very well thought out. Knowing how well this all works, I stopped in
the bathroom nearby before getting in the line.
I checked some email and texted flight info to Christine so she could
meet my flight.
When I got in the line it was longer than it had been. No worry.
Plenty of time. But I soon
discovered why they started boarding an hour and half before flight time! The first agent checked the passport photo
and that I was ticketed. There were two
lines. I tell you this because a
sideshow involved the Sky Priority lane.
I was waiting in my rather long lane when in the distance an
agent held up a bunch of computer cables.
I thought he was saying that someone left them behind. I was surrounded by chattering teenagers who
were excited about the week they had just spent in France for their Spring
Break Service Tour. Yes, school credit
for travel! Wow! Wish I had had that opportunity
at their age! Maybe I wouldn’t be a
travel junkie now! They began asking me
what they were supposed to do. I am used
to having to have my phone and tablet separated out for inspection but they
were not.
After about five minutes the man began waving around the
cables again. I listened more
closely. What was wanted, no required,
was that all tablets, all phones, all cameras, all chargers, all batteries, all
connecting cables must be placed in a separate bin for the scanner. Ohhh boy!
I travel with two cameras ever since in week two of a seven week trip
someone dropped and broke my camera.
Don’t want to go through that trauma again! One camera has a charger and five batteries
and a USB to connect to my tablet. The
other camera also has a two chargers and a cable to connect it to the tablet or
phone and about 10 batteries. They are
old and don’t last long. Then there is
the phone, and charger. And tablet and
charger. Also I was carrying two
converters. And some random things like extra battery and cable, clock and who
knows what all. It was not all in one
bag. A lot of things were but a camera
is always with me and not in a suitcase.
Extra batteries are too. Last
minute use of chargers meant they were sort of stuffed in here and there.
As teenagers swirled around me holding their cell phones
ready for inspection, I stepped aside and opened my carry-on and found the
large bag with most of the items. But
then checked around for the strays. While
waiting in line, clutching random electronics and a baggie of 3-ounce liquids
to my chest, the side show started!
A young black man, wearing large golden initials YRN heavily
hanging around his neck, went from the priority check-in line to the scanner
that he was directed to. It was separate
from the rest of us. One scanner for
the masses and one for the few. While he
was talking loudly on his phone to whomever he was going to be traveling with
he went right to the front of the line.
The ‘cable man’ asked him to get in the line. He loudly proclaimed that he was YRN and wasn’t
going to wait anywhere. He had ‘priority
check-in.’ Cable man told him so do all these people, go to the back of the
line.
“Hey man, I am YRN!”
“What’s that?”
“Young Rich Nation!”
“You are a nation?
Which one?”
“Young Rich one, I don’t wait for anything.”
“Well, you won’t have to wait once it is your turn. Go to the back of the line, which is longer
now that when we started!”
By now, two other bedecked, dreadlocked, scruffy men joined
up with him and the three had a loud conversation about being forced to wait in
line. They actually called someone,
maybe their manager, and complained and asked why he hadn’t arranged for
priority service!
Now that they had been thoroughly noticed, the young girls
around me were pointing and whispering. “They
must be famous!” Finally one of them was
brave enough to step out of our line to ask them if they were YRN? That in itself was weird. They cheerfully appreciated the recognition. The first young man even turned to the
security guy and actually said, “See, they know who we are!” Picture taking followed as girls singly and in
groups took pictures with them. All of a
sudden, YRN was in no hurry! I asked one
of the girls, who was already posting to Facebook, if she actually knew who
they were or had listened to their music before this. She said, “No, but they are famous. They must be good!”
Can you hear my brains rattling inside my shaking head?
I finally got to the scanner and put all my stuff in one
bin, and started to add my Ziploc of liquids when the man working it said, and
I quote: “You don’t need to put that in there.
Put it in your bag.” What? Huh?
Phew, such a weird thing. We went
straight onto the plane.
I found my seat toward the back of the plane and had a
flight attendant place my carry on overhead.
In the row behind me was “The Pilot Fish” and her husband. (That’s a whole ‘nother story!) I commented that we finally made it through
check in and wasn’t that a mess with everyone scrambling to find all their
electronics. She said in her usual dour
manner, well you should have known that we always do that. I replied that I knew to do my tablet, cell
phone, and camera but not all the parts. At least I never have that I
recalled. And to not do liquids, which
of course, she said she never does! I
guess before my next flight I had better brush up on the rules!
I settled into my window seat with my small, ever present,
orange Stihl stuff bag under the seat in front of my. A very nice lady from Douglasville sat in the
second seat beside me. She was a college
professor, author, and Mom of three. She
was returning from a conference in Newcastle Upon Tyne where she was a
presenter about the history of the Selma marches. We chatted a couple minutes and waited for takeoff.
I started to cough and thought I would take my prescription
cough ‘pearl.’ I didn’t want to be
annoying to those seated around me. Then
remembered that I hadn’t had a chance to refill my water bottle. Too late now.
The flight attendants were buckled in.
I realized I couldn’t swallow the tiny, round capsule. My tongue was becoming numb! As soon as a flight attendant was standing I
signaled him for a glass of water which he brought. By then my jaw and cheek were tingling. I couldn’t swallow the water. It was dribbling all over me and I was afraid
I would start spewing water everywhere.
And yes, I panicked. I stood up
suddenly and started to step over my seat companion at the same time I thrust
into her hand the spilling glass of water while she was trying to remove her
ear buds and stand up. No time for
that! I put my hand to my throat and
headed to the nearest rest room, eight rows ahead of me.
I shut the door but neglected to lock it. I was trying to wash my mouth out with cold
water and wash my face which was bright red with tears streaming from coughing
and choking. The door opened. The male flight attendant was trying to knock
but…… He asked if he should do the
Heimlich! I shook my head and he said,
you have to tell me no. I said no, I’ll be okay. He closed the door and pretty soon a lady,
who was talking to someone in the aisle, backed in, turned, and was shocked to
see me. She apologized and pointed out
that I had not locked the door. I locked
it.
I spent maybe twenty minutes in the restroom wishing that
the flight was already over!
It wasn’t over for another nine hours! I made my way back to the seat where my very
worried travel mate asked if I was okay.
I explained what happened. She said she sent the flight attendant
because she thought I was choking and she guessed she had just slipped into
“Mom mode.” I thanked her and we talked
a few minutes. Then we settled down to
watch movies. I couldn’t concentrate to
write or read. So I watched About a Boy which was really interesting and easy
enough to follow. Most of the times on
flights, I just listen for the background sound but miss a lot of the
conversation in movies because of ambient noise. Maybe I should invest in a noise canceling
headset.
I couldn’t eat when the snack was served and couldn’t eat at
the meal. Just couldn’t swallow
properly. I was really kind of worried
about it. (Two weeks later, my doctor
said during a regular visit, that I probably was swallowing but just couldn’t
feel that I was.) I drank a lot of warm
tea and ate a granola bar a ham sandwich.
I watched all the available episodes of Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians in
Cars Getting Coffee. It is a kind of
funny premise. But the one with his old
friend and partner in crime, Michael Richards, was kind of sad.
I got up several times and walked around. Got more tea from the Flight Attendant in the
galley and kept thinking that the flight seemed longer than the one to South
Africa, which by far it wasn’t. Finally
it was over. Even if you were asleep you
would know the minute it hit the ground, oops, I mean landed. Every cell phone welcoming tune can be
heard! The conversational buzz picks up
and immediately people start gathering their stuff and the moment they can, it
seems that all the seat belts click open in unison!
I joined the rush to the exits and called Christine as I
walked toward customs. I answered a text
about a babysitting job and then put the phone on mute, as you are supposed
to. I knew the system so was speedy
finding an open kiosk for passport verification and proceeded to the second
line to have my passport stamped. I was
kind of wishing I wasn’t a citizen as only two officers were working our line
while a half dozen were on the other side.
Soon a third officer took his post and it was kind of
funny. His name was Knox. I refrained from starting a conversation and
didn’t ask if he was related to my son in law.
But he wanted to chat. My
passport is thick with extra pages and as he was leafing through, looking for a
place to mark it, he noticed the various visas.
He asked if I had worked for the airlines. When I said no he commented that all my
travel must cost a lot. He offered this advice:
“You know, it isn’t too late. You could
work part time in their office and get travel benefits. Then you would still have time to travel and
it would be a lot cheaper.” He proceeded
to ask me about Russia and Brazil. I was
polite, never want to mess with someone in uniform of any kind, but I cut it
short and headed to baggage claim.
I found the right carousel but didn’t see my bag. Someone commented that some were pulled off
already to make space. Weird, but there
was my bag off to the side where I never would have looked because I thought
those would have been unclaimed from previous flights. I was glad though as two different international
flights were sharing the baggage claim. Headed
outside and called Christine, who again was graciously picking me up. She couldn’t believe I was already curbside
so even though she wasn’t right there it wasn’t a long wait.
Christine is a good listener and asks all the right
questions. She got the short version of
everything but couldn’t believe how weird my voice was from the cough drop
incident. Back at her house, I hung out
a little and rode with her to take Christian to a party. It helped kill time so I wouldn’t fall asleep
too early and could get back on schedule.
When we got back, I collected Skeeter and headed home at last.
My usual routine is to completely unpack, start laundry, and
sort mail. It didn’t happen that
way. I went to bed right after a hot
bath and according to my Misfit, I slept ten hours. What a nightmare of a journey home!
Sorry
for the long delay. The cold I came home with held me in it's tight
grip for another week! And, as you know, once you get home, life gets
in the way of living! Soon, I hope to post some pictures for you.
Thanks for reading!
