Day 10 - It Ain't Over 'Till You're Home

Getting up at 3am is no fun. Zora was staying with us in the flat for the final night so that we can take the bus together to the airport, and help her with her luggage. Her ankle is much better, but she’s walking around with a cane. So this works out well for all of us because she also has to shut down the place.

In the morning, we all got ready, packed away the final things, and began the process of shutting down the flat. Since the flat is only used when Zora, her family, or guests come into town, all the electricity and hot water provided by the building gets shut off. So I shut off the hot water (the flat is kept above freezing by hot water running throughout the flooring) and as we had already taken the luggage downstairs, Zora turned off all of the circuit breakers. We then walked out and closed the door. 

Zora has a friend that has a key to the flat, and after Zora leaves, her friend goes to the flat and removes any leftover food from the refrigerator before it goes bad.  She also checks for anything else that needs to be done, and that everything is ok.

The last thing to do was to lock the door. When Zora tried to lock it from the outside, the key wouldn’t turn. Hmmm. She then tried to unlock the door to see what the problem was…and the key wouldn’t turn. Uh oh. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. Nothing. We’re locked out, and the food in the just-now-powered-off refrigerator - is locked in. Ugh.  

Zora had given both Diane and myself a set of keys, and someone, I’m not naming names here, but it wasn’t me, left the key in the lock on the inside. It just so happens that when you do that, it prevents someone on the outside from getting in. Now I’m not blaming - the person I won't name who isn’t me - because Zora forgot to tell us about it, and this has happened before. So there’s enough blame to go around – except for me. So Zora is going to have to call a locksmith to fix it. Problem is that there’s meat in the refrigerator, and Zora’s friend can’t wait around for the locksmith to show up and do the repair. So the only person that might be able to be there when the locksmith comes is the doorman. At least there’s someone who can help. There’s nothing we can do about it at the moment because the bus was going to arrive any minute to pick us up. And there it was. So we left.  

At Ferihegy airport in Budapest, we found a well-disorganized mess at the ticket counter with everyone trying to get in the line that wasn’t a line. While we were doing our best to locate an opening for online check-ins to get away from the riffraff, Zora made a profound statement – “In Hungary you don’t stand in line, you push.” Kinda says it all.

After a short flight from Budapest to Munich, we had to take the steps down to the tarmac where Zora was expecting a wheel chair, but no one showed up. So we get her onto the bus from the plane and she has to stand because the seats in the bus are raised up off the floor by about a foot. It would have been too troublesome to try to get her up to the seat. This bus was not for those who disabled in some manner.

We get into the gate area and again, no one is there with a wheelchair. So she speaks with some airline people hanging around the gate, and they are not very sympathetic. However, one does call for a wheelchair after some further discussion, and an “I no speak English” from one of the other agents – whereby Zora said something to her in German! Boy, was that agent ever surprised.  Zora is a very smart woman.

Now Zora has a problem in that she has a very, very short connection for her flight to Newark – she has only a few minutes. The flight was slightly delayed because of minor fog, but the captain came on the speaker system and said that we would still be on-time (on-time for an airline is being as much as 15 minutes late.)

So the wheelchair finally shows up, but the agents hanging around doing nothing refuse to push her. They claimed that someone was waiting for Zora at ground level, but they must have been waiting at the front of the plane while Zora exited at the rear. So in order to get Zora to her gate on time, Diane volunteered to push the wheelchair to the gate. However, we had to go back through security because of EU and US rules, or something like that. But no one could tell us, or was even the least bit interested in telling us where we needed to go. No connecting flight info, no directions, nothing – at all. This was my first time in the Munich airport, so I was clueless and just followed the signs for connecting gates. Hey, I’ve done this many times before.

We exited security and Diane wasn’t so sure that we were going in the proper direction. So just as we passed through the security gates, and while they were still open, she tries to go back in pushing the wheelchair and Zora, and the alarms begin going off. After a second or two, with me pleading with her not to do that, she relented, and in a few moments we found the Lufthansa customer service desk where several other people were crowding around going to Newark as well.

Unfortunately, the agent said that they were now too late to get to the plane because we had to go back through security and passport control that required at least an hour. Geez! Here’s Zora in a wheelchair, we were, according to the pilot, on-time, and now she and the others for Newark can’t get on the plane because we’re late? So I don’t understand. How can we be both on-time, and late, at the same time? Makes no sense.

Now in the US, on most flights, they announce the connections, and if delayed, they ask the people to wait for the others to deplane so they can make their connections. And there’s an agent waiting when you exit to help. Not here. Nothing. No announcements, nothing about connections, no one at the gate to help. Screwed.  

After a bit, Diane and I had to depart for our flight, so we had to say goodbye to Zora, hoping that she would be ok. The agent at the Lufthansa desk told us that she would get someone to take her to the gate – whenever that would be?

So Diane and I pass through security that was practically empty, and then passport control, which was practically empty as well. We had about 30 minutes before boarding, and while we were waiting, we heard an announcement for final boarding for Zora’s flight. What? Apparently, she and the others could have made the flight! We had passed through, so why couldn’t Zora? What a pain. All that could have been avoided if the agent had just called ahead to the gate and told them that a bunch of connecting passengers were on their way. United Airlines and Lufthansa. Ugh.

The flight back to Dulles was 9 hours. The pilot took the long route through the North Pole and back so that he could get additional frequent flyer miles. This was 2 hours longer than the inbound flight we took. But our trip home was uneventful – until we reached Dulles.

Once we got off the plane we used the facilities, and then made it through passport control and customs in record time. It was mostly empty.  I then paid for my parking and left the terminal to catch our bus to the long-term parking lot. While waiting for the bus, I was going to check my Blackberry for messages when I realized I had left it in the bathroom - on the other side of immigration! DOH!!! Oh geez, what did I do?

I realized immediately that it was going to be a very painful experience getting it back. Worse than I thought.

I went over to the security office near the immigration point and asked how to retrieve it? They said that I needed a United Airlines representative that had clearance to retrieve it for me, and pointed me in the direction of the United baggage claim desk. So I headed over to the United baggage counter - all the way on the other side of the concourse – about a 5 minute walk.

Once I got to the baggage claim desk and told them my problem, the gentleman there told me that I had to go to the customs office – back where I just was. I could already see where this was going – can’t you? I mentioned that the security officer told me that I needed a United rep with clearance to get into the secure area. The baggage guy said he was sorry, but that wasn’t correct, and that only the customs persons could do that.

So I went back across the airport and found another security officer because I didn't see an immigration or customs office, and reiterated my problem. He told me exactly what the first guy said, that I needed a United rep to get back into the secure area. But after I told him what the United baggage agent said, he told me to go to the ticket counter and get someone there.

So, I hightailed it back across the airport again to the United ticket counter. I saw an agent who wasn't busy and asked.  She said that I needed to use the red phone over by the customs gate - back on the other side of the airport, to call INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) and they would call the proper party. So I run back over to the other side of the airport, AGAIN, and pick up the red phone. 

So far I’ve done about a half mile of walking, power walking, and just plain running back and forth, all the way across the airport, four times, from one end to the other. I’m out of breath, sweating profusely, with Diane still waiting outside by the curb.

So I pick up the red phone and it rings through to INS. A woman answers and I tell her my story. She tells me that she can’t call anyone, and that I have to do that through the white courtesy phone.  Hmmm, white courtesy phone?

I look around and don’t see it so I go over to the information help desk nearby and ask. “I’m sorry,” she says, “Dulles doesn’t have a white courtesy phone. Other airports do, but not Dulles.” Oy. Not Dulles.

What now? No one wants to take responsibility, no one knows what to do, and no one wants to make a phone call. Have a nice day!

I go grab Diane so that she isn’t waiting and wondering if I’ve been sucked up into a jet engine, or have been swept away to another country for interrogation and torture.  

We go back over to the information desk, and they suggest that I just wait for someone to come out of the secure area and grab them. Well, I did one better. I just walked into the place when someone came out and the doors were opened. There was a rep standing there and waved me in, seeing that I was in sort of a panic.

I told her my problem and she pointed me to the United desk right behind me. I told my story ONCE AGAIN, and one of the gentlemen nodded as if this has happened a zillion times before, and took off into the netherland of immigration and customs.

About 10 minutes later he comes back ---- with my cell phone!!! Hooray! I shook his hand heartily and thanked him profusely. And left to go home. 

Tomorrow, I’ll summarize the trip and consider what I would do next time.

Maybe I’ll limit the strudel, and wait until I get home to use the facilities?

Welcome home!