At the risk of burning up my (surprisingly long-lasting) new macbook battery, I’m going to use some of my wait time here at the lovely Vienna airport to make an attempt at writing up the excitement of this trip back to Ukraine. I’m all hopped up on coffee (provided in individual carafes at each table at breakfast this morning--but more on that later) so might be conscious enough to write.
Thursday afternoon, my folks took me to our old familiar Pittsburgh airport, saying to each other, ‘This will be the easy trip!‘ My trip to the US on the day after Christmas had been a long one. I left Rivne at the end of a full Christmas day, took a marshrutka to Kiev, got to the airport by around 1am or so, and waited there, mostly sitting and napping on my luggage til I got to check in after 4:30am. Had a 6am flight to Paris, then Cincinnati (and the hassle of reclaiming luggage and going through customs), then finally to Pittsburgh. The flights were uneventful and easy, but I was so beat after the ordeal of getting there in the first place, that I was sure the way back would be a snap!
Little did I know.
Little did I know that a guy who’d had too much to drink would wreck the travel plans of a few hundred, including me! I was sitting two rows behind the guy who came on the plane a bit disoriented, and shoved his small black bag into the ‘emergency supplies only’ compartment at the very back. (I later felt like a real hero when I told the flight attendant where his bag was!) I still don’t really think he was a danger to anyone but you just don’t take risks when strange men are saying stupid (and unnerving) things, especially after what happened on Christmas Day, on another Delta flight.
So, around midnight or so Thursday night, we got to hear the captain come on and announce that we were landing in St. John’s for ‘operational reasons’ (even though all of us near the back of the plane new what the real reasons were-as we carefully watched the drunk guy). Then after landing, the St. John’s security police guys came on and invited our friend off the plane. Despite my disappointment that they weren’t wearing Mountie red, it was pretty exciting! The excitement wore off of course, when we were all standing in that eternally long rebooking line in Paris. Our landing at least 4 hours late meant all flights missed, including my lovely morning flight that would have gotten me home to Kiev by 2.20pm yesterday. Sigh...
Oh, lest I forget, there was also some kind of ‘medical emergency’ on that same flight. Plus some exciting turbulence when we were over the Atlantic. Fun fun!
In Paris, I was told that the only flight to Kiev was the next morning at seven. I said “oh please, there must be another way - I can fly through another city!” So the obliging Air France lady found a flight via Vienna that would get me to Kiev by around 11pm. I said, sure! She said, it’s a close one though, less than an hour between flights. I said, no problem! Ha.
Had to visit 2 or 3 more desks (in far-flung places of the airport) before I could get my tickets, but got em, and around 5.20, got on a plane for Vienna. Due to bad weather in Vienna, our flight left Paris late, and I began to prepare myself to miss yet another flight, all the time hoping that the same weather preventing our departure would hold back my next flight and give me time to make it!
But alas, alack, no hope for me yesterday. Though I later found out that I would have had time to get on--there was no listing on the monitors for my Kiev flight, and no one around to ask (except for Austrian air reps, and passport control, who tried to help, but sent me in the wrong direction). Only when I got to the Air France desk (back out at departures) did I find out I could have made it, had I just known the gate! Grr. This is where I started bawling. Okay, well, restrained sniffling. Made the Air France guy very helpful though, and he let me call Tanya (my friend and former roomie of five years who was waiting for me at the airport in Kiev all day), and later told me I should have asked for the free phone call at Paris too. Next time! (Oh Lord don’t let there be a next time).
So missed that last flight, accepted my fate, took my free hotel voucher, and shuffled off. Of course I was still wearing my little sneakers that were convenient in the airports but less so in the slush and mess outside. Sloshed back and forth, outside, back in, back out, til I found out how to cross the road to get to the hotel, which was thankfully right across the street. Stayed in my room instead of taking them up on the free dinner because I was more desperate to be near my phone (charging up while plugged into the wall at last) and computer (on which I bought some wireless minutes). Did, however, enjoy the breakfast buffet in the morning. They had everything! Well, everything European, and that’s ok by me. Had some lovely peach crepes, a hardboiled egg, some potato thingy. And a whole carafe of coffee and cream at my table, just for me! Well, I didn’t drink the whole carafe. Tempting, though!
The good night’s sleep, even though I could have used a few more hours, was soothing, as was the bountiful breakfast. And I have to be grateful that at least I’m safe and eventually getting where I need to go. And the luxury of the hotel stay made me realize how different it is, being an air traveller. If you miss your bus or train in so many places around the world, you’re just stuck. (Ok, I was too that one time in New York when Delta said ‘when it’s weather, you don’t get no voucher’... argh). But anyway, just trying to say that my aggravation was balanced by feelings of gratitude. :-)
Thanks to all you who have been praying! Keep it up. I’m still really hoping that my blue suitcase is sitting in Kiev, waiting for me, and wondering why it’s taken me so long!
One more memory, a deja vu thing, I need to share:
As I was wandering around last night, trying to find someone, anyone who could tell me where to go or how to get a new flight, I had to come out of “Arrivals”. Arrivals in Vienna spills you out to this kind of rotunda area and to the usual crowd of faces waiting to receive their friends and family. More than ten years ago, in May of 1999, I spilled out into this arrival area at this very same airport, also carrying a heavy duffel bag (which at that time was the entirety of my luggage), to be met by a very surprised Jan Coleman. That was the beginning of my European journey, and then my not-so European life and almost ten years in Ukraine. Full circle.
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