Ok, so sometime in late
2013, I was talking with my wife and parents about plans for the holidays, we
came up with a lovely little idea that would allow my wife and I to take our 3
year old to the US, spend the holidays in Orlando with family there and some
extra time in Rome and Tbilisi before my return to Kabul. Sounds simple and it was...the plan that is.
You see, my parents
made all the arrangements in the States, while my wife arranged her visa for Europe
in Tbilisi. Everything was coming
together and there were no problems...until we actually began to travel, which
brings me to the holiday story of 2013.
Our flight from Tbilisi
to Amsterdam went off without a hitch.
We arrived in Amsterdam and were ready to go out and see the city. Looking around Schiphol we finally located a locker
to store our carry-ons. Unfortunately, the
first row of lockers that we came across were broken (GGRRRR) which of course I
didn’t realize until spending about 20 minutes trying to understand how to lock
the silly thing. We then moved on the next set and I spent another 15 minutes trying
to understand how to lock and pay for the locked locker while not accidently
paying for the lockers that my 3 year old was closing as well.
Being clever, I decided
that I didn't want to carry the boarding passes with us because I was afraid
that we'd lose them in the city. So
after I locked them in the locker, we went to passport control where the guard
promptly asked me for…the boarding passes (but of course). After going back to the lockers, I retrieved
the passes, and paid for the locker again.
This wouldn't be a big deal, except that airport lockers are
increasingly expensive nowadays; especially when you've locked the first time
for about 10 minutes, but have to pay for the entire day.
Regardless, we were not
going to let this ruin the day (or so I tried to repeatedly tell myself) and jumped
on a train to take us to the center of town.
Being still pissy about the lockers, I wasn't paying attention to what I
was doing and we boarded the wrong train which took us out into the Dutch countryside. Once discovering this error we jumped off
that train and snuck onto a train going back into the city. A couple hours wasted, but we were determined
to enjoy the rest of the time there and explored Amsterdam a bit. It had changed a lot since I worked there and
it was nice to see the city again. I
wish we could spend more time there…when it will be warmer.
We made it back in time
for the flight to the US and when we arrived we leisurely strolled to the
restrooms near US passport control.
While waiting for my wife, I looked up at the clock and realized that we
only had 40 minutes to get through passport control and make our way to the new
gate. Alarmed, I took our 3 year old and
ran over to the woman controlling the lines for passport control.
"Hi, we have to
catch a connecting flight to Orlando. Do
you think we can make it?" I asked while looking at the line of 300 people
and breaking into a sweat.
"What time is your
flight?"
"In about 40
minutes"
"Then you will
probably miss it" (ugh!)
Now slowly entering
panic mode "Do you have a diplomatic passport line?" I demanded. In actuality I don't like using the
diplomatic passport unless I absolutely have to, but this was getting to an
emergency stage.
"Yes sir, down at
the end of the room on the left"
Looking over her and
not seeing anything but a wall there and a couple doors on the left "uhm...do
you mean on the right?"
"No sir, on the
left"
"Hmm...Ok - great!
- thanks" and we sprinted back to the restroom area to collect my wife. Waiting for approximately 30 seconds (which
seemed like 30 minutes) I begin to yell in to the woman's restroom for her to
hurry up as we had only 35 minutes before the plane would leave. Little reference for you all, if any of you
ever hear a man yelling in Russian while you are using the woman's facilities,
don't worry - it's probably me.
As she exits the
facilities bewildered about what all the commotion is about. I tell her to grab her belongings and would
explain it to her as we sprint down the corridor to the diplomatic line (which
by the way IS on the right side).
Standing behind the KLM
pilots and crew and thinking that we were in the "homestretch" I
begin to calm down and explain that we only had 30 minutes and we would have to
rush. Of course, as I'm explaining this,
I'm watching the KLM crew talk about politics, the weather, and life in
general, etc. I'm also noticing the
passport guards repeating "Next!" again and again and no one paying
attention to them. When the crew finally
realized that the guards were talking to them, they broke into a "Would
you like to go first? No, no, no. Really? But I insist. But I can't. No seriously, after you"
routine. Watching this and the clock
with growing eyes and palpitating heart, I thought I would have a coronary while
waiting and was ready to scream out "For the love of God! We'll go first!" when they finally settled the matter and went
to the desk.
By the time we made it
to the passport desk I was almost shaking giving very short answers to the
guard. Worried that I will be flagged
for suspicious behavior, I tried calm down and act "natural." Of course, "natural" for me is
still pretty erratic and suspicious behavior.
Once through the
passport control, I grabbed the 3 year old - who is not so light anymore - and
sprinted through the corridors with no idea where the gate was.
Running up to an empty
gate, I yell out "ORLANDO?!"
"YES! RUN!"
The woman at the ticket counter yelled back
"Print the
boarding passes!" and we went from a sprint to full-fledged Boston
Marathon style running.
"DuPont,
right?" she asks while handing over the passes in one hand and explaining
to the plane that the last three people were on the gangway.
"Yes!" I
gasped
By the time I sat down on
the plane, I thought that my heart would explode, but was happy that we made it
and was ready to enjoy the time in Orlando.
And we did. We spent time with family and when the
weather permitted went to the Aqua Park, etc. Yet, all good things must come to an end and
after our time there, we had to get ready to return to Tbilisi.
Things were going
relatively smoothly at the airport in Orlando.
We had our tickets to New York to catch the flight to Rome, but they
didn't seat us together. As soon as it was
our turn oat the ticket counter to make changes to the boarding passes, the
woman stops me in mid-sentence and gets on the phone
"What? What is this? Ok, ok, I understand"
hangs up the phone and runs off.
A bit bewildered I
first thought that I was being flagged for security.
As it turned out, she
ran off to confirm that weather had delayed all the flights and we may or may
not be able to make the Alitalia flight to Rome. Considering that JFK is
larger hub and the fact that I was not paying attention to the news, we opted
to travel to JFK...and so the fun begins.
I think it is important
to state one very important fact now: We arrived at JFK in the WORST SNOWSTORM
IN THE HISTORY OF NEW YORK. For those of
you reading this now, you will understand, but I feel the need to capitalize
this idea for future generations. It was SO COLD that the metro shut down, transportation
to the city was essentially cut off, over 320 flights were cancelled, CNN was
immediately reporting that the government had recommended that no one go
outside for prolonged periods of time and there we were…in the middle of this…getting
off the plane wearing clothes that we wore in Orlando.
Although three hours
late, we had hoped that we would be able to make the connecting flight to
Alitalia and ran off the Orlando flight, jumped on the terminal train, ran to
the check-in desk to be greeted by a smiling, out of shape middle aged woman
who looks up and said "You missed the plane" and went back to her
work.
"The plane left
already? I mean, how did it manage to leave exactly on time with the weather
like this?"
"It's gone. No more flights"
"When is the next
flight?"
"I dunno - with
weather this bad, we have no idea when the next flight will be” and she walked
off.
Disappointed that we
missed the flight, we head back to the previous terminal to talk to Delta about
the situation. Oh...and by the way, for
those of you who don't know, the terminal train at JFK only goes in a big
circle. This means that when you want to
go to the previous terminal that you were at, you will have to take then entire
route again – good fun when you are in a hurry.
When we eventually
arrived back at Delta and explained our tale of woe, the man behind the counter
tells us that the Alitalia flight was actually still there and that if we hurry
we could catch it. My heart leaped! There was still hope!
So we sprint to the
train, go back to the same ticket counter where now the woman was arguing with
about 10 irate Italians who were told the same thing that we were. She finally admitted that the plane was
indeed "there" at JFK, but it was on the tarmac and was obviously not
going to return for all of us to board it.
Despite our best efforts to argue with her (as she eventually just put
on her coat and simply left us standing there without any options) and terminal
manager - even suggesting that they drive us out to the plane (yeah, far-fetched,
but we were all desperate), we realized that we'd have to go back to Delta
[sigh]...back to the terminal train.
At Delta, we explained
the situation and started going through options.
"We can book you
on a plane to Holland and then you can transit in the Ukraine"
"No we can't. We don't have visas for the Ukraine"
"We can book you
on the next flight to Italy....in 10 days from now"
"10 DAYS!” I
almost shouted “Sir...honestly? Do I
look like I'm retired and have that much time? (actually I might have given
that I was wearing a bowling shirt and sandals)
I have a job and need to be back in Kabul in a few days. We just want to spend time in Rome before
going back. Is there nothing?"
"For Rome? No, nothing.
How about Tel Aviv?"
"Israel? Sure, we don't need visas for Israel. When does that flight leave?"
"In a couple
days...like 2 days"
"Can you put us up
in a hotel?"
"No, weather
related problems are not the responsibility of the airline. You can go and try to get a hotel, but
honestly...everything is booked now"
Not believing this, I
went to the hotel desk that would assist in booking a hotel in the city only to
learn that he indeed was correct. There
were NO hotels available in the city, the metro was shut down (as well as the
terminal train that connected to the metro), there was a minimum of a 2 hour
wait to take a taxi to go outside the city (thus costing approximately $80
-$100) to find a hotel for about $150 and hope that you could make it back to
the airport, but given the weather there was no guarantee of THAT. So there we stood, in JFK, with no place to
go during one of the worst blizzards ever dressed in summer clothes with a 3
year old.
We spent 3 days, 2
nights squatting in the JFK food court.
The first night they pulled out as many cots as they could and we were
lucky to claim our corner. The other
times, we slept upright - you know, good practice for the flight to Israel. At night, it looked like scene from an apocalyptic
movie or Hunger Games: people lying all over the
terminal, on the floor, on the stairs, walking around with lost expressions,
etc.
By now I should
probably remind you that we did not intend to spend 3 days in JFK and therefore
did not have many toiletries, a change of clothes for any of us and were
concerned that we would run out of the proper supplies (pull up diapers for the
long flights) for the 3year old. Well,
wanting to avoid any more complications, I began the search for diapers. Happily,
my search didn't take me from the airport.
Unfortunately, it did take me to another terminal, that wasn't connected
to the train system, which means that I had to trudge through slush, ice and
snow, in sandals and a bowling shirt during a blizzard with wind chill so cold
that Niagara Falls actually froze. It is
amazing how the fear of your toes falling off can really make you hurry up your
step.
Regardless, we had the
diapers, we were in the food court (plenty to eat), and every time the 3 year
old was restless, I would take him for a tour of JFK and "ride" in
the train, on the elevators, escalators, etc.
In actuality, he was much more of a trooper than we were. So how bad could it be?
By the time, our flight
to Tel Aviv was finally announced and we had to go to the gate, our son was
getting sleepier and eventually fell asleep in our arms as we were waiting in
security line for El Al. While the
security check wasn't a problem, the line to check in was pretty frustrating;
only to be made more exhausting passing the boy back and forth, but it was the
passport control at JFK that was the new hurdle.
You see, because they
cancelled and delayed so many flights, there were roughly 4003 people in the
passport control line - although with a small, semi-awake child in your arms it
felt like 4016 people there. Line congestion,
impatience and confusion didn't help that matter either. Regardless, as we stood in line, I began to
feel something on my leg. Something warm and relatively wet. I look down and see that the diapers didn't
hold and my son urinated on my pants.
Jumping at the sight of this, I instructed my wife to quickly get a pair
of diapers out of the backpack and switched him to my right arm where he then proceeded to urinate all over my shirt. So as I there,
waiting in line to go on a 12 hour flight in urine soaked clothes, I began to
contemplate the universe and life in general.
Sure, the average person might be a bit "perturbed" by this,
but honestly, he wasn't screaming, crying or cranky and that would have made
life far worse. Whereas I on the other
hand, thought about screaming and crying, but couldn’t afford to at the momment. We were too close to getting home to give up
now.
When we finally arrived
in Tel Aviv, I was a bit nervous. The
plane left JFK late and so we arrived late to Tel Aviv and as we hurried
through the terminal to get to the transit station I saw the roster for Tbilisi
- we were in time. (YAY!)
As we walked to the
transfer area, an El Al employee stopped us.
"Where are you
going?"
"Tbilisi"
"Tbilisi? You can't be going to Tbilisi."
Blank stare
"Uhmm...well...we're supposed to be going to Tbilisi. Is there a problem?"
"No flight to
Tbilisi"
I about fainted
"There has to be a
flight to Tbilisi! It's on the
roster!"
"What is your
name? Maybe we don't have you on the list"
"DuPont"
"No, you're not on
the list"
"What?! How can
that be? We must be on the list!" I
about shouted as I looked over her shoulder "Look there we are!"
pointing to DuPont "that's us!"
"Oh, so it
is" she replied almost sounding disappointed "OK, go down to security
and I will be there in a minute."
Security? Why would need to go
to security? All we wanted to do was go
to transit? But who am I to argue with her, so we
went.
She eventually came
down and brought us to a large, empty room with a baggage belt.
"Where are your
bags?" she inquired looking around the empty room.
"We don't have
bags. We checked them in to Tbilisi."
"You don't have
bags? You came from New York without
bags?"
"No - we checked
them from Orlando to Tbilisi"
"So...what are we
doing here then?" she asked
"You're asking ME?
I don't even know where "here" is"
"Ok, what you
should do is go to the central area, do some shopping, watch the roster and
then go to the gate when your plane is called."
Sooo…basically just go to transit as we originally intended, correct?
We took her advice and
did some window shopping. When we saw
our plane was boarding we went to the gate to be greeted by a panicking woman from
EL AL at the ticket counter
"Where have you
been?" she demanded
"Pardon? What do you mean? What's wrong?"
"You're Monsieur
DuPont, correct?"
"Yes"
"We have news for
you"
News for ME? Oh boy! What now?! I wondered. They don't have our
seats? We're being re-routed to via
Australia? I’ll be sitting in the baggage area under the plane sharing a tin of
“Prestige” cat food with fluffy the mangy tabby? What? What could it be now?
"Your bags....they
never left the US. We don't know where
they are or when you will get them."
Blank stare
That's it?! HAH! Lady, look at me! I mean, really, now after
missing out on a trip to Italy and any days of rest in Tbilisi, four days of no
shower, no shaving, pains in our necks and backs from sleeping sitting up,
swollen feet, no change of clothes and standing there with urine stains on
me...THIS is the worst you could tell me?
"Well, we'll just
address that in Tbilisi.” I calmly replied “Please give us our boarding passes
and thank you."
Of course, what I
forgot was that all my underwear, socks, a warm jacket, etc. were in those bags
and I had to quickly buy clothes at the bazaar for the trip back to Kabul, but
again...we were going home.
And so I leave you with
this - while things can always go wrong, it rarely helps to get upset. Trust me - it can always be worse. The vacation itself was fun with only one
mishap of accidently getting trapped in the Magic Kingdom territory (before the
theme park). We ended up getting lost in
the area and had to reverse drive on part of the highway (good fun). Evidently, all roads lead to the Magic
Kingdom and not to Rome.
p.s. The bags
eventually arrived in Tbilisi with all our clothes, etc.....three hours after I
departed for Kabul.
p.s.s. Oh yeah, and
never, ever, make travel plans with me!
You’ll thank me later.
