O, Air Canada, never again

April 29, 1 pm:

I am at the airport, boarding flight AC148 (a Boeing-767) excited for my upcoming month in the fair country of Germany, when an announcement comes on.
"We have temporarily suspended boarding while maintenance replaces something in the cabin. We will resume boarding shortly".

Forty-five minutes later, I'm sitting on the edge of my seat (38K), watching more and more maintenance crew collectively scratch their head, and getting more and more nervous. The plane was supposed to leave at 1:15 and arrive in Toronto at 8:45. My connecting flight to Frankfurt leaves Toronto at 10:05. It is now 1:45 and it is not looking good.

Another announcement: "The maintenance crew has been unable to resolve the problem. At this time, we would ask you to please gather your things and leave the plane so they can continue to work. We thank you for your patience."

My patience is wearing a bit thin as my excitement begins to cross that fine line into anxiety. I leave the plane, somewhat frustrated, and join the other frustrated people talking to the Air Canada employees. I go up and let them know about my connecting flight, to which the woman responds "oh, I paged you". She paged me in the airport, but I was on the plane. So smart, these folks. The good news was, I had been transfered to a flight at the next gate leaving Vancouver at 2pm. I trickle over with the rest of the Frankfurt bound folks, and find my window seat, after being assured that my luggage was also being transfered (famous last words). I'm a little anxious, since this plane is not supposed to arrive until 9:30, but I figure that since we were given seats on this flight, the Air Canada people have the situation in hand.

Somewhere between "Juno" and "The Golden Compass" (767's have awesome personal touch screen entertainment units, and although there is only expensive food to eat and I don't have any Canadian cash, I manage to stay amused), I decide to ask one of the flight attendants about the connection. She seems confused, so I explain the situation further. Apparently she doesn't know anything about the need for about ten of us to try and make that Frankfurt flight. Luckily, once she finds out, things go into action - the captain radios ahead to ask if they can hold the flight, and they arrange to have someone meet us at the gate and direct us to our transfer.

The plane arrives at the gate at 9:45. I don't know how many of you reading this have been to Pearson Airport. It's a good sized airport. I have to go from Gate 140 to Gate 170. Doesn't seem to bad, right?

I get of the plane quickly, thanks to the guy in the aisle seat that switches with me for the last part of the flight. I get to the agent, and he says "go that way, and we don't have your bags, so you'll have to tell them at your arrival point. Oh, and you better run!"

I take off as fast as I can, carrying two heavy bags. I hit the next agent, who says, "You'll make it, but you'll have to run!"

I pick up the pace. The dominant thought in my head is "I'm making this damn flight to Germany if it kills me. There is no way I am waiting one extra minute before seeing Jason!"

Ten minutes and lots of moving sidewalks later, I am seriously out of breath yet grateful that I picked up and wore my new running shoes, I arrive at the gate, gasping something fierce. I haven't eaten in hours, and now I am feeling sick, but I board the plane (they had given away my lovely window seat and stuck me in the middle). I'm finally on my way to Germany!

The rest of the flight, once my heart stopped beating at such a high rate, was pretty smooth. I managed to get my veggie meal and a beer - gotta love international flights when they give you free booze! I also was able to sleep for four hours (thank you, melatonin), as well as watch "Atonement" - an excellent movie. Breakfast was also quite tasty, but by that point I was getting excited to see Jason (oh, and to be in Europe).

I arrive in Frankfurt and get to de-plane onto the tarmack via a flight of stairs - deplaning it old school! It is my favourite form of deplaning. Just an aside - I find that a very odd term. De-plane makes me think of defenestrate, or throw out a window. It's just awkward. In Berlin, I don't have to run, and going through customs is a breeze. I arrive at the Lufthansa gate after walking down a long, tubular structure lit with funky flashing blue and green lights and accompanied by what can only be described as techno elevator music (tube music?). During my walk, I hear several different languages (none of which are English) and marvel at the novelty of being in Europe. Most things around are pretty familiar, with subtle differences: a bathroom smells like grapefruit, the toilet paper is recycled, and the paper towels are green.

I am starting to bounce a little now - those of you who know how I get when I am excited can picture me rising up onto my tip toes, suppressing the urge to clap. The free Lufthansa coffee is not helping. I go to board, and my boarding pass (which I printed in Vancouver) doesn't work. The gentleman who took my ticket speaks English and is very polite, passing it off to his colleague. To my great relief, the issue is one of finding me a seat. They print me off a new ticket, but again bump me from a window seat into 19D. I'm a bit annoyed at this, but it's better than hanging off a wing! I walk into to find my seat, automatically bypassing business class, only to find that economy starts at row 22. Yes, I've been bumped! This is the second time I've been upgraded, in a grand total of two international trips. Pretty good, if you ask me. This trip is only an hour, but in business class we get fed - a roll, some cheese, a salad and a yummy chocolate square with an airplane on it. Economy gets nothing...welcome to Germany!

That plane ride went by very quickly, and at this point I can't wait to get off the plane and into the arms of my man. I am still not sure about the status of my baggage at this point, because I was told in Toronto that the Frankfurt plane had waited for our luggage. So I get off the plane in Berlin, where the luggage conveyor is right by the door. I decide to wait just in case they didn't screw up, but it means waiting just a little longer to see Jason...

I look around, and lo and behold, the nice German people have put glass in near the door. A huge smile lights up my face as I catch sight of Jason behind the glass...and the smile is returned as soon as he catches sight of me. I make my way over to the glass, but we can't hear or touch each other...I have to wait a few moments longer.

I wait, and wait, and wait, but no luggage. I finally give up and rush over to throw myself into his waiting arms. I have arrived, safe, sounds, sans luggage, but happier than I have been in weeks. We make our way to the baggage office, where they put a trace on my bags, take my address and give me a "female overnight bag" consisting of some basics, including a white t-shirt, toiletries, and some laundry soap. Of course, the greatest essential, underwear, is nowhere to be seen. Now, although I really appreciate the brush that folds in on itself with a mirror on the handle, I wonder how they expect me to do laundry. I get this mental picture of me only wearing an Xl t-shirt trying to wash my other clothes. Note to self - whenever travelling, bring a spare pair of undies in the carry on!

Now to navigate the German transit system...but that's a story for another blog! Stay tuned...