Forgot Password
Pentax Camera Forums Home
 

Reply
Show Printable Version Search this Thread
04-12-2014, 06:36 AM   #1
Veteran Member
Heie's Avatar

Join Date: Nov 2011
Photos: Gallery | Albums
Posts: 968
Found my old travel journal entries...

I am in the midst of a move and have been trying to consolidate all my data onto two external harddrives (I found some old thumbdrives and document CD's). One of the finds was a 3-document collection of journal entries I wrote when I had originally intended on writing a travel blog. Thought you'd be interested on my initial hell of a journey just to get out here to Germany over 3.5 years ago. Feels like just yesterday after reading them again


15 Dec 2010 - "Thank you for your patience."

As my leave came to its inevitable end, I couldn’t help but feel a competition for which would win over my heart – a sense of sadness for leaving the last remnants of family in America versus the excitement of starting my career in a land completely alien to me. Going to John F. Kennedy Airport was just the beginning of what would be one of the longest nights of the year.

Arriving at Delta Departures, I was immediately greeted with New York Hospitality at its finest. Spotting a neglected collection of 4-5 carts shivering in the cold, I thought I’d make use of one. “Excuse me, Sir. May I please borrow this cart for 5 minutes? I have over 200 pounds of luggage and I just need to get it to the counter right there to check in three bags. I’ll return it as soon as I’m done.” In retrospect a terse “No” would have sufficed. Instead I was privileged with being told how I had to use the carts all the way at the end of the terminal that you had to pay $10 for. Happy Holidays to you too, A**hole Sir.

After saying my final goodbyes to my family friend and his precious little ladies, I went from check-in to through security without so much as a hiccup, despite the, ahem, thorough search TSA gave me the last time I flew. Apparently there were trace elements of explosives in my backpack from Sapper School. Whoops…

Getting to the gate, I was not at all surprised to learn that my flight had been delayed. After all, that is what flights do on Winter’s first powder. In the interest of efficiency, the entire terminal’s flights were all arriving and departing out of the same gate; Gate 23. I found myself periodically peering up to the large flat-screens that gripped every passenger, whose mere existences were temporarily controlled by the omniscient typist–anonymous it will forever be–behind the plasma. The departure times between a flight to Chicago and mine were at one point within 1o minutes of each other, and knowing that it takes closer to 30 just to board, I knew there had to be another delay when my flight would arrive. Sure enough, I was further interred a third time: another 45 minutes after the initial 40 and 55 minute delays.

And at long last, an angel’s voice drowned out the stench of disappointment and humidity plaguing the terminal: “Attention all passengers of Delta Flight 2348 with nonstop service to St. Louis, your plane has landed and is waiting to taxi to the gate. It will be about 10 minutes. Thank you for your continued patience.”

Finally, almost 3 hours after the initial scheduled departure, we would be boarding the plane; I would be one step closer to arriving in Frankfurt. Who knew that would in fact initiate the five-minute countdown for the night’s fireworks to go off?

“Attention all passengers of Delta Flight 2348 to St. Louis. Your flight has been canceled.”


19 Dec 2010 - "Oh, St. Louis is out of the way? Good."

"Attention all passengers of Delta Flight 2348, your flight has been canceled. Please report to the central ticket counter between Gates 23 and 24 to have your flight rebooked for the following morning through Atlanta."

A collective groan rang throughout the terminal; an angry cry demanding answers that became a combination of surprise and displeasure in response to the gate attendants’ retreat behind defensive and terse façades.

Being between Gates 22 and 23, I was far removed from defeating the hordes that instantaneously swarmed the ticket counter. I noticed that there was a “Delta Priority” lane with only two people in line, and with my esteemed position that military service members qualify, I became the third and waited a patient 4 minutes. After asking the portly woman slouched over her computer screen how her night had been going, she seemed to be put at ease, sharing with me a gleaming smile of white and gold.

“How may I help you, Sir?”

I explained my situation and how I needed to get to St. Louis as soon as possible so I could catch my flight from there to Dallas Fort Worth. “Well, you were automatically rebooked for the Atlanta-St. Louis connection, but that won’t get you there until noon tomorrow, obviously missing your flight. How about I cancel those altogether and just get you to Dallas on a direct flight tomorrow morning, arriving 3 hours before you’re flight for Frankfurt departs? You can catch that leg of your trip and since it was us that screwed with your travel plans, it won’t cost you a thing; I’ll just transfer your ticket.”

Have you ever been so blown away by something so simple; so common sense, that it was a stroke of genius? Whether it was because it was such a no-brainer or not, my gut didn’t sit well with the idea of having it so easy.

Kindly thanking the lady for her ingenuity, I told her to help the next disgruntled traveler as I called Carlson Wagonlit (the company the military used to book the tickets) for their approval. After explaining the entire situation yet again, and how Delta’s Meeshell (I wish I made that up…) was going to save the day, she not only popped my balloon. She took a shotgun to it.

“Sir, you have to fly out of St. Louis since your last duty station was Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. If you do not check in for your flight in St. Louis, they will cancel your entire flight, including your connection out of Dallas. And then if you attempt to board the Dallas to Frankfurt flight, TSA will have you labeled a terrorist for impersonating a military service member.”

Clearly she had to be trying to win the upcoming Christmas Party’s “Prank of the Year,” so imagine my surprise when she got angry when I laughed at her, saying I was extremely tired and although well-played (I think I even threw in a “Touché, Ma’am”), I really wasn’t in the mood for her jokes. And that was when I got angry.

“You mean to tell me that if I had the same set of flights but took my leave in Dallas, Texas, I would have to fly to St. Louis just to fly to Dallas, TEXAS?!”

“Yes, Sir, that is correct. And the volume on my phone is working just fine, thank you.”

I apologized and explained I understood she didn’t make the rule; I was just so taken aback by the policy that I allowed myself to lose my cool for a minute. Taking a deep breath, I felt the newfound acceptance of the situation start to dissolve my anger and frustration, after which I asked what my options were.

“Well, you said your flight gets into St. Louis at noon. There are no more flights available for the next two days out of Dallas to Frankfurt; they are all filled up. You are flying Delta, correct? They have a flight from St. Louis to Chicago, and then straight to Frankfurt. That leaves tomorrow afternoon, so you’d arrive right around your original arrival time. And then because all your flights are Delta, you can have them check your luggage all the way through to Germany. Does that work for you?”

Does that work for me?
“Yes, Ma’am; that’s fantastic!” As she processed all the paperwork on her end of the coiled line, places required of me to visit became the topic of discussion. Almost six hours since my Boeing 747 was supposed to tuck away its wheels, I was finally put at ease: everything was going to work out.

“Sir, everything is set up and you have the reservation, however I can’t complete it and get you the e-ticket. The transportation office’s policy at Fort Leonard Wood only is that they have to book all of their soldiers’ travels. But here is the locator number, and just give that to them and they will finalize it.”

Unable to muster the strength to question why, I surrendered with an exhausted “Of course they do.”

I thanked her for her help, apologizing again for being so rude in the beginning. Making a fleeting glance at my watch, I caught the time being half-passed midnight. With a flight departing in less than 6 hours, sleep was my one and only priority, and I found my refuge on the floor behind an abandoned ticket counter. Not sleeping through my flight was due strictly to luck: I never made it to setting an alarm.

I made it through to Atlanta as planned, arriving just in time for the business day to commence: I still had to call transpo. Upon dialing their number, I was greeted by a static-filled recording of a monotonous female’s voice.

“Thank you for calling the Fort Leonard Wood Transportation Office.” Okay, nothing out of the ordinary here. “None of our receptionists are available at the current time…” What a surprise… “…due to our biweekly staff meeting.” Oh, you have got to be shitting me.

So for the next hour and a half I dialed and redialed, and dialed some more; all to no avail. As the time until my flight to the Show Me State withered away, I found myself sweating. Not profusely, but the subtle, minimal perspiration that makes for lasting discomfort. And then the recording changed, monotonously informing me that all receptionists were attending to other customers. Because that status remained for over 15 minutes, it became apparent that they were released from the staff meeting one-by-one.

Alas, they let Michael return to work. “Good morning, how may I help you today?” Explaining my situation (for the fifth time, but who’s counting?), I ended with my confirmation number. “Ah, here we go, Lieutenant Jansen. I see it now. This shouldn’t be too diffic—wait you’re flying to Frankfurt on Delta Airlines? Well, we are going to have to cancel that because it isn’t American Airlines.”

And like a slap to the face, I came out of my haze. “I’m sorry. C-Can you repeat that?”

“The contract for all travel to Germany out of St. Louis was given to American Airlines, so you can’t fly anyone but them.”

After another agonizing 30 minutes of playing Chinese Rubik's Cubes with my itinerary, in the name of efficiency, the once possible–yet extremely complicated–”JFK to Dallas to Frankfurt” is thankfully ignored in light of the much simpler “JFK to Atlanta to St Louis to Chicago to London to Frankfurt” route.

I could not be prouder to be in such competent hands than those of the United States government.


21 Dec 2010 - "It's a small world after all..."

Landing in the Windy City for the first time in my life, I was surprised to see how tepid Mother Nature’s temper had become. When you spend a lot of your time in transit between airports, so much so that they often feel like a second (or third or fourth) home, you hear tales of traumatizing experiences at specific hubs. Chicago O’Hare happens to be the one you hear about the most, where the weather is so bad that it becomes the stuff of legend. “Don’t ever fly to Chicago, it’s horrible. I’ve never had a flight not get delayed or canceled, in any direction,” I was once warned.

Making my way to my gate, I was anticipating some sort of catastrophe. I mean, that’s what was supposed to happen: it was my first stop since St. Louis as I struggled to make it to the Fatherland. With 5 hours to go until calls for London rang through the terminal, I found it funny to be in the only airport I’ve ever been to that had no outlets available for passengers in waiting. So what is one of the best things to do when you are bored? Throw money away in over-priced airport restaurants. Eat.

Finding a sandwich with apple slices on it, I decided to be bold and try something completely different. Going back to the gate, I planted myself strategically: not too close, yet certainly not too far away from a gorgeous ginger-wannabe: she had the pink and red constellations dotting her pale cheeks and nose sans the flowing red locks. Determined to just say hello and introduce myself, I did what any confident, self-assured, newly-minted-Academy-graduate would do: creepily catch glimpses over my unique sandwich.

For fifteen minutes I coached myself on how all I needed to do was just say something. Anything. I’d open my mouth, get to about to say something, and then retreat to the sandwich in my hand, continuing to maximize the time it took me to eat. Seeing that she was reading a book full of pictures, I attempted to catch the name of it and interject a small recollection of when I read the book. Realizing that hers was new to me, it rendered my “in” as implausible. And then it just happened.

“So, what’s in London?” I asked on impulse. Removing her dorkily attractive, librarian-esque glasses, she casually told me of family that lived there. Family? But her accent is clearly not English, but rather of a mid-East Coast American. Inquiring a little bit more, I learned she had not yet graduated from her undergrad. Which surprised me, especially when it later turned out she was not the 24 or 25 year-old that I had assumed from her demeanor.

“So where do you go to school?” Not particularly fond of mentioning my alma mater so quickly to someone I had just met for fear of coming off as pretentious, I was too tired to keep it a secret and come up with something different. “I went to a little school in New York called West Point.” Emphasizing the size of it, I could not have been more wrong with my assumption that it would be dismissed as such: “My dad went to West Point!”

“I-I’m sorry? You’re dad went to West Point?” As well as his brother, it turns out. “Bullshit,” I laughed. Commenting on how it would now make sense an American would have family in the United Kingdom, I asked whereabouts she lived throughout her father’s career in the military. Listing country after country, I casually asked in the exotic tongue, “So do you speak Arabic then?” when she finished with Jordan. Confident she wouldn’t have any idea what I had said, I could have mumbled about cars and cheese for all she knew, and it would have made no difference. Well, I could not have been more wrong, because I was greeted with an extremely shocked and enthusiastic, “You can speak Arabic?!” in return, finishing with “I study Arabic at school!”

After picking my jaw up from off the floor and tucking my tongue back in, I asked her as politely as I could, “What the hell are you doing studying Arabic?” I did not find it possible to be surprised anymore than I already was; and then she informed me her father had my dream job: he’s a Foreign Area Officer (Army officer in a diplomatic position, usually stationed in embassies and working for the ambassador to whatever country) for the Middle East.

Completely losing track of time for the next several hours, we talked nonstop. Every once in a while I interrupted myself in order to laugh as I say, “It’s so nice to be able to say *insert military term/acronym here* and not have to explain it!”

Boarding the plane, luck would have it that not only were we not neighbors on our 300 passenger plane, but that I would have an empty seat beside me.

Reverting back to the golden days of middle school, I settled on a note. Four or five drafts later, I had written–for the first time in 6 months–a sentence in Arabic. Telling her that if she wanted to, the seat next to me had not been taken, I entrusted it to an enthusiastic flight attendant. Dedicated to the cause, she searched three separate times for a pretty reddish-brunette with lots of freckles.

Upset at her inability to locate her, she handed me the note back; the old adage of “if you want something done right, do it yourself,” coming to mind. Making a pass, I noticed Linda’s dilemma in finding her: I was 7 rows of seats off. It also didn’t help that she was completely asleep with her head face down. Unfazed, I handed the note to her neighbor, asking her to deliver it when she woke up. I figured on a 7 and a half hour flight it would get to her eventually.
Not only did she not stir for over 5 hours, it took me making another stalker’s pass in order to invite her to continue our conversation in my vacant seat. And by “another,” I mean three or four. Or seven; don’t judge me.

Finally landing on royal soil, we made our way through the maze of seats and falling luggage off the tarmac, but not before another attendant noticed my military backpack. He stated that he would have bumped me to First Class had he known. Agreeing, my travel companion said that it would have been great to, and I would have had a much better flight.

Grinning, I told her how I had the best flight I’ve had in a very long time. “Everyone keeps saying things happen for a reason. As reluctant as I am to chug the Koolaid, had the Army not had its gymnastics exercise with my itinerary, I would have never flown to London.”


Jenny says I should take up writing again. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this walk down memory lane as much as I did

-Heie


Last edited by Heie; 07-17-2014 at 08:07 AM.
04-12-2014, 04:42 PM   #2
Senior Member
Aerlind's Avatar

Join Date: Apr 2014
Location: Colorado
Posts: 116
That was entertaining!
04-19-2014, 06:06 AM - 1 Like   #3
New Member




Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: seacoast NH
Posts: 48
Awesome

Alex - what a great read!
Reminiscent of me trying to deros from SE Asia back when.

Thanks so much for your service in the military and your witty and informative posts and reviews.

Carl
04-23-2014, 06:47 AM - 1 Like   #4
Veteran Member
MRRiley's Avatar

Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Sterling, VA, USA
Photos: Gallery | Albums
Posts: 6,275
Alex... You need to publish your memoirs!

Mike

07-17-2014, 08:06 AM   #5
Veteran Member
Heie's Avatar

Join Date: Nov 2011
Photos: Gallery | Albums
Posts: 968
Original Poster
Thanks everyone! I really enjoyed revisiting that series

-Heie
Reply

Bookmarks
  • Submit Thread to Facebook Facebook
  • Submit Thread to Twitter Twitter
  • Submit Thread to Digg Digg
Tags - Make this thread easier to find by adding keywords to it!
dallas, delta, flight, frankfurt, gate, hours, louis, minutes, st, time
Thread Tools Search this Thread
Search this Thread:

Advanced Search


Similar Threads
Thread Thread Starter Forum Replies Last Post
People Found some old pictures of my Son j2photos Post Your Photos! 3 02-03-2014 06:17 PM
WW1 photos found in old French camera Alliecat Photographic Industry and Professionals 6 05-23-2013 07:31 AM
Question May 2011 Competition Entries - Competition before Black and white entries PentaxExpression Site Suggestions and Help 5 08-08-2011 07:43 AM
Old film travel pics Ash Post Your Photos! 21 10-27-2009 05:14 PM
Found my old KM! :) MRRiley Film SLRs and Compact Film Cameras 5 08-04-2008 11:56 AM



All times are GMT -7. The time now is 04:21 AM. | See also: NikonForums.com, CanonForums.com part of our network of photo forums!
  • Red (Default)
  • Green
  • Gray
  • Dark
  • Dark Yellow
  • Dark Blue
  • Old Red
  • Old Green
  • Old Gray
  • Dial-Up Style
Hello! It's great to see you back on the forum! Have you considered joining the community?
register
Creating a FREE ACCOUNT takes under a minute, removes ads, and lets you post! [Dismiss]
Top