The Berlin Trip: Getting There

I was flying Delta to Berlin. I should have been wary. I've only flown Delta one other time internationally, and it was a bit of a fiasco. But the flight was cheap and the times were good. Of course, it was destined to not work out as well as it looked.

I got to the airport two plus hours ahead of time, so I felt on top of things. The line to check in was short, but the people in front of me were all military and all toting huge weapons that had to be unlocked, inspected, locked, certified...I don't know what else. Suffice it to say it took them a good while to get through the check-in process. But by 1:45, I was at the counter, and with a 3:15 departure, I was feeling good. Until the lady behind the counter started giving me funny looks. Uh-oh, I thought, can she not find my reservation? What's going on? Well what was going on was that the Delta flight I was booked on was delayed and would cause me to miss my connection in New York to Berlin. So she was switching me to an American Airline flight that would get me there in time. Fine...except that it left at 2:05 and it was now 1:50. Shit, I thought. Run, she said. So I did.

I begged my way to the front of security, fumbled with my shoes and luggage and hurried to the gate---only to find no one there. Crap, I figured, I missed it. So I head down to my original gate and talk to a not particularly friendly guy who told me the flight was just delayed but still ahead of my original flight so I should go wait for it. Fine. I go back, someone's there, she checks me in, and again I'm feeling good. I'm on my way. But, wait a second, what's that announcement. Oh yeah, the flight's now not just delayed, it's cancelled. Oh boy.

So it's back to Delta and my original flight. I only had an hour between the flights to begin with, so with the delay, making my connection is questionable. Trying to stay ahead of the game, I ask when the next flight out of JFK to Berlin is, and make them book me on it as a back-up. It's an hour later, connects through Paris (I was originally going direct), and gets me there four hours later than planned. Not the best, but so it goes, and I still have my fingers crossed that I'll make my original booking. I'm optimistic.

But optimism has never been my strong suit, and I remember why as the minutes tick by and no plane materializes. There's no no way I'm going to make the original connection. It's the later flight, I guess. I'm resigned. But then...what's that...worse news. JFK has grounded all incoming flights that have not yet taken off while they get caught up on other landings. The earliest the flight will leave DC is 5:35. There's no way I'll make either option now. So it's back in line and back to the desk to find out what the next option is.

Of course there's a next option right. It's still early. International flights leave all night long. But according to the guys behind the desk...rude, slow, and pretty much worthless...there is no other option. They swear they've searched everything. There's nothing they can do. I'll have to come back tomorrow and get on a flight that won't get me there until Friday. No way is my only thought. I'm mad. And I'm upset. I only have four days, I haven't seen Jeff in a month, and I just want to be there already. All optimism is gone. I don't know what to do, so I do what you do when you don't know what to do...I call home.

We set up a plan...my mom will look online while I call Delta. Of course, it takes forever to get through to a human, and with each moment I picture my last option flight taking off. I finally get through to a person, and he seems sympathetic and helpful. I beg him to get me out today and tell him that I will go anywhere, make as many connections as I have to, do whatever it takes to get to Berlin on Thursday as I was scheduled. Just please please please get me to Berlin. He looks and looks and then tells me he's found me an option...I'm thrilled. I want to hug the guy. Everything's going to work out. He puts me on hold to book it. I wait, and I wait, and I wait. It shouldn't take this long. And when he comes back, I know I'm right. I hear it in his voice when he says my name. He's sorry, but it won't work out. The flight's booked. Now I'm just pissed, but that doesn't get me anywhere either. He too says my only option is to go the next day.

No, no, no, no, no.

But there's a message from my mom, and I give her a call back. Online she's found a flight from BWI that goes to Atlanta, then to Paris, and then to Berlin. And according to her computer, there are still seats on these flights. Despite all the day's defeats, I'm still hopeful, for some reason. I just have to get there. So I go back to the desk and the unhelpful "customer service" people. I give him the flight numbers and he fiddles on his computer, the one that said there was no possible way for me to get to Berlin. "Oh yeah," he says after looking up the flights, "that should work." I just stare at him. It's now 5pm. I've been there all afternoon begging for a way to Berlin and he's been telling me there's nothing, but now, all casually, he's like "That will work." What? Are you kidding me? I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I didn't have time. The flight to Atlanta was leaving at 5:45 and I had to rush over to that desk to get booked. Fortunately, the woman at that desk is very kind and gets everything taken care of. My flight has an extra leg, is a good deal longer, and doesn't get me in to Berlin until 3pm (7 hours later than I was supposed to get there), but I will get there, and I'll get there on Thursday, as originally planned. I'm so relieved. It's been an emotional few hours, and I'm wiped out.

While the flight to Atlanta is fine, as is the one to Paris, the connection in Paris is a disaster. I'm supposed to have two hours between flights, but due to gross incompetence of the people unloading our plane, I end up having to run and make it onboard my flight to Berlin as the very last person. But I'm on it. And I make it to Berlin, and there's Jeff waiting for me. (Thanks to my amazing mom and her persistence in trying to get through to him and let him know that I'm not going to be there when he expects me.)

And I'm happy. The flights are behind me, Jeff's with me, and we have a few days together in front of us. Life is good, right?

(Pictures and more about what we did once I finally got there is forthcoming.)