Thursday, November 3, 2016 ~ by Amy
There are days that will forever be
marked by a red letter in our memories. Some are beyond joyful, and
some we'd rather hadn't existed. Today was a bit of the latter. It
began well enough. We had done the math and allotted plenty of time
for getting ourselves ready and zipping the final zips on the
suitcases. At 9:00 we hauled all our luggage out of the apartment at
24 Queen Street and down to the sidewalk.
 |
| Airbnb "Luxury Snug" ~ 24 Queen Street, Edinburgh |
We penciled in 30 minutes to walk the
11 blocks to the tram stop on Princes Street, with a little time for
coffee and pastry at Pret on Hanover.
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| One last cup at one of our favorite coffee shops ~ Pret A Manger |
We just missed one Airlink tram heading
to the airport so we sat and people-watched for seven minutes until
the next one arrived. Luggage hauled on board, we enjoyed the
peaceful half hour ride to the airport. Though it was just a two
hour flight on a small plane, we had allowed 1 ½ hours at the
airport. We figured we could always eat lunch while waiting as there
wasn't a free meal on the plane. What could possibly go wrong?
This is one of those blogs that I
wonder why I write at all. Aren't bad memories better off
obliterated? Why record them and relive them? Here's my current
thought process (if I change my mind later, I can always delete this
post with one plastic click of a key). I think that we grow in bad
times. When we survive something, we have triumphed over it in some
small way. We grow stronger and wiser. Perhaps a little more
cautious, or maybe more brave.
The airport wasn't
too busy when we arrived late morning. The check-in should have gone
off without a hitch. The single SAS check-in desk was manned by a
quiet, petite woman with a strong British accent. I had to strain to
hear her and asked her to repeat multiple times. She was insisting
that we needed to pay 50 pounds for each of our bags. I protested
that my luggage was free throughout the flights. Alas, when she
checked further, she confirmed that for this portion I would have to
pay the fees because it isn't an “oversees” flight. Well, just
over the North Sea. I conceded that she was probably correct. She
told me to save my receipt and my travel agent would reimburse me.
Not likely! Then she spent about ten minutes explaining to me that
since she had just got to work or it was her first day on the job or
something that she didn't have the equipment required to charge me
the fees, and would I mind waiting while she helped someone else.
Thinking we still had plenty of time as we were scheduled to board at
12:00, we stepped aside and watched her assign away almost all of the
remaining seats on the plane. Finally someone brought her the
handheld card reader that she needed to charge our luggage fees.
At last on our way,
we noticed that we didn't have seats together. I inquired and she
said that it was completely full and that's that. Okay. We headed
for the gates, and then realized that we had no gate assignment.
Back again I went to inquire. She said that it was K10 but it could
probably change. How helpful.
Going through
security, I randomly got selected to be wanded for gunpowder. I
passed, but then my Nook in my carry-on showed up on their scanner.
I have traveled everywhere with it and never taken it out but now it
had to be wanded for gunpowder also. Random. On the way to K10, we
decided to confirm on a monitor if the gate was correct. It was, but
then I saw in the remarks a flashing notice that the gate was
closing. My blood pressure nearly shot through the ceiling. Since
we had a layover in Stockholm, I knew we had to make this flight.
It
wasn't quite noon so they shouldn't have even started boarding people needing assistance but
they make the rules. We fast-walked toward the gate. Europe has
this crazy idea that everyone who travels through their airports (or
on their ferries) wants to buy gallons of duty free whiskey and
perfume. Thus the Stockholm airport has been designed (or
redesigned) to include a long, winding “store” that is actually
the concourse. There is no fast way through it. We choked our way between shoppers and then, after checking another monitor, broke into a run.
I don't make a habit of running unless a bear is after me. And
certainly not with luggage. But run we did, and after about a mile
of concourse, we saw the happy sight of K10's door still open. I
couldn't speak if my life depended on it but frantically waved,
hoping they wouldn't close it.
We made our way
into the packed plane, just behind two other last-minute passengers,
a mother and young daughter. My seat was on the aisle next to them
and Alyssa's further back in the plane. Even though I have a very
tiny carry-on, it didn't fit under the aisle seat in front of me.
There was no room overhead either. I asked a male flight attendant
and instead of offering to help he replied, “Well, you're just
going to have to go look for a spot somewhere.”. Thanks. I did,
but when I found a space further up, I felt so weak and wobbly, I
almost dropped it on a guy's head. Thankfully he was nicer, and at
least offered to help.
As soon as I was
buckled in, I started to cough. I do that sometimes and just need to
go away from people and cough and get it over with. When a plane is
trying to take off, there's no getting away from people. And like
during the prayer in church when you try not to cough, it only gets
worse. I'm sure that the people around me thought I had some deadly
disease. I simply couldn't stop coughing and couldn't catch my
breath. I had a water bottle but hadn't had time to fill it after
security. I was able to croak out a request for water so someone
handed me a little cup but it didn't help for long. I had a whole
bag of cough drops in my carry-on but I couldn't get to them. I
literally coughed for a solid hour, tears streaming down my face,
until I fell asleep. That was, without a doubt, the worst hour in my life so far because I totally had no control whatsoever.
When I awoke, we
were dropping down into Stockholm. Looking over my seatmates and through the smudged window, I
could see a fresh coat of snow on the ground. Soon we were down and
the crisis behind me. We walked straight to our new gate, even
though we had at least 1 ½ hours before our next flight. I wasn't
taking any chances. Thankfully, the Stockholm airport has a wonderful design
of restaurants right by the gates. In fact, our gate didn't really
even have seating. We found a great place to eat right next door
where I had some delicious pesto pasta with chicken, served on nice
dishes.
I breathed a sigh
of relief when we were seated together for our short flight to
Helsinki. Soon enough we were dropping down to the dark, snowy
landscape of Finland. My brother Wade came to the airport to collect
us for the hour or so drive to their country home. Their hallmark
hospitality was evident as soon as we walked through the door and saw
the table set cozily with pretty dishes, our favorite foods of
Finnish bread and cheese and the cheerful faces of their children. We were safe and warm. Life does get better, you just have to give it a chance.
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