I was in such a hurry. Eighteen listed “to-do” items, and leaving at a designated time should have been enough, but only if I hustled. I am not a hustler.
Having forgotten breakfast, then the clock continued its cycle. I rushed to put two frozen waffles into the toaster. Didn’t set the timer correctly, so when they were mushy only, I put them in for another few minutes to brown up. I then went to email my friend Ed. When finished, I walked back into the house filled with smoke, billowing black smoke that was thickest in the kitchen. I rushed to open doors and windows, and put the culprit, you guessed it — the toaster — outside the patio door to smolder and puff away and scare the neighbors. The house continued with waves of smoke, and now the alarms were all chorused, and banging on, while I stayed on the patio hoping to forestall anyone from calling the fire department. An hour later, my eyes continued to burn, walking through the house — I am now wondering what were the magic ingredients in those two charred bits that were vegan and sugar-free — trees? oils? toxic chemicals?
I continued on my list. By now, the time window had shrunk. Daughter Kelley called to let me know that the trip I was leaving on in now only 6 hours, had a problem. Lew, I hoped, my fixer of all things, could handle it. The check-in said that Kiara would not check in — but would have to be seen at the airport. I returned to my tasks.
The next call was to inform me that Granddaughter Kiara, who was the star of this viaggio, btw, had her ticket canceled. We were leaving in hours, and her trip was canceled? And — it was truly my fault as we had purchased 2 tickets for her from Seattle to Denver and she’d used “the other” ticket for the trip leaving the first leg of the “big trip” untaken automatically canceling the rest of her reservation.
Jake, of Counsel Travel, the world’s best travel agent, who is currently (a little jealous drumroll here) on an around-the-world trip himself, jumped into the mix and amazingly pulled off a switch by un-canceling the trip we had and getting us a valid ticket for her. Magic Jake is up there with Zeus. Meanwhile, the house merrily billowed away, and I cranked on the list.
As we left for the airport a few hours later, I still had not gotten fresh sugar water for the hummingbirds or rewatered the orchids.
We made it onto the flight without incident, the air was rocking all the way, and the food was icky, but we arrived some 10 hours later at Munich. The curse continued. There were no wheelchairs. Four parties of us stood while everyone looked blank. I use wheelies in airports, and this one especially, was a giant octopus of an airport. The first chair that arrived had a named passenger — a woman to go on to Venice with us – but they wouldn’t allow us to take the same vehicle, as my name wasn’t on the list. The others finally left, as more chairs arrived. We were left frustrated and fearful, as we only had a one-hour layover to begin with. Counting down the minutes, we tried to ask everyone and were met with refusals, clearly not interested in our problem. We were in a compartmentalized room with warning signs of ALAM — do not enter! — posted on every single glass door. The agent at the counter said we could not make the plane, and better go to customer service and try to work with them. But how? There might be a flight later to Venice, he said. MIGHT?
Interestingly, United refused to call Lufthansa, as they were a separate airline, although a partnered sister company. The ticket was under United’s purview, and they wouldn’t call? As we made sad plans to adjust ourselves to this new reality, a man showed up.
Blaggo, a Macedonian with a wide smile, and a refreshing ability to look us in the eye, said – Madam, I was told you were not here, and so I cancelled the service. Maybe we can still make the bus. The bus? Yes, it required a sprint through a mile-long series of gates and we had six minutes till flight time, never mind the boarding time. Munich is HUGE!!!
As we finally dashed, well, he carefully herded us toward the last gate at the furthest end, he said, my friend will take you to the plane by bus. We got to a deserted-looking counter and saw the woman walking away down a glass hallway. He yelled, twice, before she turned around and came back. She gave us boarding passes, exclaiming nein, nein, while we began to renew our hope that maybe things would work out. Blaggo grinned. He deposited us at a bus, we forgot to tip him at all, much less generously, and took off to wind around the airport for another ten minutes before locating the Air Dolomiti little plane that sweetly deposited us, dripping with fatigue and joy, near the water pier to catch the water taxi in Venice.
I hope the house smells wear off…
Whew!!!