Airport | What Up, Vienna?

13Nov/094

i know all there is to know about the crying game

by michelle

Alex and I had separate flights from Vienna to Hawaii. Mine was through DC. And that is where this story takes place. I arrived in my nation's capitol about 4pm. I had about an hour and a half to connect and it takes bloody forever to go through customs. You have to wait there in line with a million people in the same predicament as you. And there was this jackass of a guy who was trying to cut past everybody because he has a plane to catch. Really, a plane? Guess what? We ALL have a plane to catch, a-hole. I actually said that to him minus the a-hole part.

I finally got to my gate with a few minutes to spare. And....the flight was overbooked. (Thanks United!) So I just had to wait there for my name to be called. Tick tock. Tick tock. Finally, she sighed and said, I hate to do this. And then she said two names...one not my name and one MY NAME. Hallelujah. Let's roll. (Okay, maybe that's not the right thing to say when talking about an impending plane ride) So I get on the plane where I have been instructed to find an open seat. I spy one right away but the other girl was right there and her name was called first and I am nice so I did something that was going to become very regrettable... I offered her the seat. I did that assuming the other purported open seat was just going to be a few rows back...so I kept walking... and walking... until I found myself at the end of the plane part. Shit, no more seats. Dammit! Why was I so nice to that girl I didn't know? She was probably a jerkface too. Maybe I could just go unnoticed and let this plane take off with me standing here and I could do a choreographed dance between the aisles and the lavatories for the next five hours? I didn't get a chance. I got spotted. I wish I had worn my "inconspicuous part of the interior of an airplane" camouflage. Exit, stage left. Sigh. Cue plane take off. Now show me some despair. Oh, DESPAIRRRRR.

I was so very tired. And so very screwed. It was too late to get on any flights after that one. Alex was on his way to Los Angeles where he was expecting to meet me at my gate when we were then supposed to go to meet the good Jim Hamilton at baggage claim. I had no American cell phone. I had no American money. So I had to go exchange my 10 odd euros for cash and then use that cash to get change from a bartender. Then, I had to travel in a time machine back to 1998 and use a payphone. Oh, the humanity. And I'm jetlagged to the point of feeling drugged. Well, I guess, technically, I was jetlagged AND drugged. It's a PRESCRIPTION!

So then I had to go wait in line. It seems really unfair that they overbook your flight, they screw your plans and then they make you wait in an unreasonably long line. (Thanks United!) Not to mention an unreasonable long line with pissed-off, crazy people. Everybody wants you to join their Team Angry Consumer. I just wanted out of there. It took probably an hour and a half of line waiting before I got my turn. At this point, I was kind of glad to be getting a hotel and some cash. It was late and I had enough jetlag to work through already without adding on another three-hour time difference. There was another flight at 8am in the morning which would put me in Los Angeles 11amish which wasn't going to be so terrible. However, as the man helping me was ringing it up, he realized that that morning flight was sold out too and he wasn't going to have a specific seat available for me. He said that I was first on the list though and it shouldn't be a problem. (DANGER DANGER DANGER) I was too tired to protest though. (No, Michelle. Protest! You should protest!) Sure, fine, whatever. Where's the bed?

I got back to the airport the next morning with plenty of time to spare. I wanted to be the first person at the gate. The rep finally showed up about an hour after I got there and she barely looked up when she told me that the flight was overbooked (Thanks United!) and she couldn't promise that I would get a seat and THAT SHE WOULD CALL MY NAME WHEN SHE DID. She had to say that over and over to people. I didn't want to make her madder so I just sat nearby and waited patiently and hoped hoped hoped things were not going to turn into a shitstorm. Then, I heard her say to somebody that the next available flight after this one didn't leave until like 8pm. SHITSTORM! I started to panic. And I realized that drastic measures needed to be taken. There was only one choice. I had only one option. I went up to that counter and focused on the new less-angry-seeming lady that was now there... and I started, "I know that you have said this over and over and that you'll call my name when you can give me a seat but I just had to say something because I just have to get on that plane. I can't stay here in D.C. all day. I don't know anybody here. (Voice crack) I don't have a cell phone. I don't have any money. (Tears) I've been living in Vienna and my boyfriend is supposed to meet me in Los Angeles and we're going to Hawaii tomorrow and I can't stay here (Full-on crying with an audience)." I looked at her face and I saw that I broke her. She looked back at me with Mom eyes. Mission accomplished. She said to just be patient and listen for my name. I wasn't embarrassed that I cried in public. I wasn't embarrassed because all those people waiting for their names to be called were just jealous that they didn't do it first. And they couldn't do it now. That would be so transparent. Five minutes later, mine was the first name called. And when I went up to get my boarding pass, the first meaner gate lady held on to it, looked at me with these super "tsk, tsk" eyes and said, "Next time... don't cry."

Sorry, mean lady. It worked too good. My only regret is I didn't cry the night before.

Tagged as: airport, crying, douchebag, hotel, pitfalls, travel, xanax 4 Comments

30Sep/094

word of the day is rechnung

by michelle

That means check, by the way. I have proudly used it twice today. And I'm thinking about going to sit down at a cafe again just so I can drop it thrice.

Enough about that though. I promised I would tell you about my first few days in Vienna and I am now going to deliver.

I made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. My bff Jim Hamilton parked the car and helped me lug in my suitcases. I had one large suitcase which the night before Jim and my friend Cesar lifted and declared the weight to be around 35 pounds IF THAT. They scoffed at the idea that the suitcase was anywhere near the 50 pound maximum. Even though I trusted their supreme non-accredited weight-guessing skills, I brought a bag just in case some clothes would have to be removed to shave off a few pounds. Well, I did not have to do that. However, it was closer to me having to do that than the suitcase weighing in anywhere near 35 pounds. It was 47 pounds and change. Nice, gentlemen. I hope this comedy thing works out for you because your hopes of a lucrative career in state fair weight guessing have just been dashed. I'm writing strongly-worded letters on your... what's the opposite of behalf?

So the LAX to DC flight was mostly uneventful. I had my middle seat switched to an aisle so that was a huge win. I had plans to not fall asleep at all but nature took over and comatosed me for the better part of two hours. I'm glad I got that energy nap because I needed it for the breakneck sprint I had to take in order to make my connecting flight. Well, I had a heavy roller suitcase, bulky laptop bag and a pillow so it was only a sprint relative to that. It was more like a breathing-hard, long-strided shuffle wherein after I got off the shuttle to the correct concourse I alternated between looking at what time it was on my iPhone and counting off the gates as I got closer. I hoped to be able to get something to eat and go to the bathroom. I was lucky to make it on the plane. My luck ended though when I found myself in a middle seat on a nine-hour flight. I think somebody's bad karma must have gotten mixed up with my great person karma. I was sandwiched in between a young nomadic fellow who had a Fulbright scholarship to teach English just outside of Vienna and a veteran of the State Department who has lived in a litany of countries some of which I'm pretty sure she just made up. In between visiting with my plane pals and eating and drinking and Xanax pill taking, I probably slept all of 90 minutes. That Xanax was a waste. Sure it made me not scared about falling in to the ocean but it did not render me unconscious as I had envisioned. I think on the next flight we might have to take my two beers and a Xanax on a full stomach plan up a notch. Maybe three beers, two Xanax and I don't eat for 48 hours beforehand? I'll try it and report back.

So the flight gets in to Vienna about 40 minutes early. I managed to follow the little pictures of suitcases to the passport line to the baggage claim and I even figured out which carousel my bags were on. However, I realized for the first time in my entire life... I had to get one of those cart things. Lordy, I am stumped. Why, the instructions to extricate one of these carts appears to be in a foreign language. As I stood there mouth agape looking lost, a fine young airport employee came to my aid and told me I needed Euros.

"Uhhh, I don't have any!!"

He points to the currency exchange behind me.

So I go to the counter and plop down my $30 and change I have in American. The Frau hands me what look likes Monopoly money and some doubloons. I walk back over to my new best friend and just held out the money to him my eyes pleading help me. He took it from there and soon I had my cart. Carts are fun! Why didn't I know this before? Suddenly it was a party. I got my bags and grand prixed my cart out through customs to the very, very happy open arms of Alexander Platt!! Three weeks and five days apart is way too long. It won't be happening again.

Umm, I know I said I'd tell you about my first coupla days in Vienna. I didn't really get that far. I'm a jerk. Stay tuned. I'll fill you in, I promise.