Time For Me To Fly

     There were many times over the past few days where I wish it was indeed time for me to fly. Alternatively, this post could be titled "Too Much Time on My Hands" or "Good Times Bad Times." That's what it felt like for a good portion of the travel I undertook the past few days. To preview the upcoming post/rant, I will simply say this. NEVER, EVER FLY THROUGH PARIS AIRPORT! That, and the air traffic controllers of France owe everyone flying through there yesterday Two Tickets to Paradise.

     Quick programming note. If you have read the post "Jet Airliner" and haven't seen the video of the trip, it's uploaded now. Or you can go here and see it.
     If you've caught up on my posts, you'll know that I was back in the States for the weekend. On the whole, it was a good time. But the return journey was one long ordeal. After my parents and I had said goodbye to my brother, we all went into the Eastern Iowa Airport and checked into our flights. Unfortunately, that's not where the troubles started. I had been told earlier in the day that my second flight (Atlanta to Paris) had been delayed about forty minutes. No big deal, right? I had a two and a half hour layover in Paris scheduled. It turns out, that was the first card in the deck stacked against me on this trip.
     Well, we got checked in with no big problems. The only issue there ended up being the second card against me. I should have gotten three boarding passes for all three flights, right? Nope. In this day of ultra-fast communication and networking, apparently two companies can't coordinate and give me three different boarding passes for three different flights. Delta, for whatever reason couldn't give me my boarding pass for the Paris to Kiev flight. But Ukrainian International Airlines was able to do just that for my three flights to the States. That meant, in the nightmare of an airport that is Paris, I had to go and find a ticket desk to get the pass. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Don't want to ruin the surprise.
     My parents and I said goodbye at my gate and I got on board my first plane. This flight, by far, was the high-point of the day. It was (nearly) all downhill from there. I watched about half of Inside Out before we landed in Atlanta. My mind already wasn't thinking clearly on that flight. I asked the stewardess if she had only Coke products. She replied yes. I then promptly asked for Pepsi. In my head, I was thinking Sprite but my taste-biases overruled the choice and spat out the one choice they didn't offer. Fortunately, I received nothing more than a Sprite, two packs of cookies and a little embarrassment on the side.

The most unsatisfying burrito in the world.

     The rest of the flight was good. I got to experiment a little with my new camera. That photo up above was taken with my phone. Everything was smooth sailing until we landed in Atlanta.
     Compared to Detroit, Atlanta is a little less easy to navigate. Still better than Paris though. I managed to find the gate with no trouble and then went looking for some food. I chose a burrito (again telling the lady something different than the one I wanted) and a Coke. I was talking on the phone and nearly forgot said burrito on top of the Coke machine. I also bought a headphone adapter in case I would need it. I didn't.
     The flight finally started boarding while we were as yet, unaware of the ordeal that awaited us all upon arrival in Paris. The plane took off at around 10:30 PM in Atlanta and finally arrived in Paris around 11 AM local. That was the moment we got a hint of what was happening there. Up to this point, I'd heard nothing of the strike going on in France. It was affecting everything from departures to baggage handling. We sat in the plane for twenty minutes before they finally figured out a place to put us. Then we had to wait another fifteen minutes to finally start getting off the plane onto buses. Tempers were already running hot. One older man who sat a few rows ahead of me started shouting at people and arguing with the stewardesses. The two ladies sitting to my left missed their flight while we were still sitting on the plane. All the gates were full so the buses took us to one of the terminals. There things got worse.
     I should pause here and say that whomever is tasked with running the Paris Charles De Gaulle airport would be better suited to cleaning toilets or washing cars. Nothing too mind-taxing. They obviously don't know how to help people travel in the simplest way possible. The least they could have done is put large, easy to read maps all over the airport. Instead, I had to operate under vague assumptions, guesses and providence to get to where I needed to be. The signage is woefully inadequate or often absent. The security checks are more common than pigeons. I underwent three separate scans (and bypassed a fourth) after arriving in Paris. If my shoes don't glow from all the x-rays they absorbed, a visit to Chernobyl won't do anything to them.

Wave goodbye to my missed flight.

     Anyways, thanks to the strike, the delays combined just enough with the maze of security and terminals and shuttle buses to add up to me getting to my flight just as it was backing away from the gate. This is the picture I took after I arrived. The ironic thing is, if I had not stopped to go to the bathroom and had actually known where to go, I could have been on the flight and back in Kiev on Monday before midnight.
     However, if that had happened, my luggage would likely be stuck in Paris waiting to be rifled through and distributed to what ever lowlife that passes the employee screening there. Which is a shame because then I'd have to explain to four different people why they aren't receiving the things I bought for them.
     I do want to pause again and say "thank you" to the extremely helpful man I finally found sitting at one of the Air France desks. It took two shuttle buses, thirty minutes and asking three different people to find him. Thanks to him, I was put on the next flight out of Paris to Kiev (which left that evening). He took the time to ensure that my luggage was directed to Kiev (although, as it turns out, on another flight. Not his fault). He also made sure I knew exactly where I needed to go to get to my next gate. He guided me through the maze of security and gates and signs to the train I needed. Unfortunately, I never got his name. He knows who he is. I am extremely grateful for the nearly twenty minutes he spent tapping away at a keyboard and walking me to my train to get me put on a new flight after missing my last one. Without him, I think I'd still be stuck in Paris.
     Here are a few articles on what has been happening in the France travel strike. This isn't just affecting air-travel. It's taxis as well. Personally, I'm a big fan of what President Reagan did when the air traffic controllers went on strike in 1981. Fire them all. One of the articles I read said that even over-flying flights, not just those landing in France, were affected by delays. Air travel is a totally unacceptable business to disrupt just to make your demands made known. This is an industry where the lives of people are at stake. Had a plane crashed or been lost, the consequences would have been far worse than a couple hundred missed or canceled flights. Despite the stellar safety record of civil aviation, that doesn't give air traffic controllers the right to play with human lives simply for better pay or newer technology. Additionally, if ever possible, avoid flying through Charles De Gaulle airport. The convenience it non-existent. It's busy, complicated, expansive, and frustrating. OK, time to get off the soapbox. That's the nice thing about having soapbox, though. I can decide when to use it and when to get off of it.
    Through all of this, I never expected the trains to stop working. I got on board one of the inter-terminal trains and waited five minutes for it to leave. Right before it does, an announcement comes over the PA in French and English saying the train was out of service. The British man standing next to me (who sounded like he was from Manchester) remarked that even the automated trains are on strike. But a moment after the announcement, the doors closed and the train took off with a full load of passengers. It stopped at Terminal L next so I didn't need to risk the ire of striking, automated trains. Off the train, and up the stairs, I had to go through my THIRD security screen in Paris, the fourth of the day. It's a good thing I didn't do any shooting in Iowa. That scan-and-swab session would have marked me as a terrorist in anti-gun France.

Airbus A380

Smoking room to go with the lighters they sell in the airport.

    So there I am, sitting in terminal L waiting for my flight. Originally, it was scheduled for 7:30 PM. Then it was bumped back to 8:35 and finally to 8:45PM. In the time I was waiting (roughly five hours) it changed gates three times. But during that time, I was able to write the previous blog post, talk with a friend, have some dinner, catch up on some Youtube videos and play with my new camera. I even got to get some good pictures of the biggest passenger plane currently operating. We didn't actually start boarding until about 8:30 and the wheels came off the ground at around 9:00 PM. Little did I know, that wasn't the last of the issues.

Ham and cheese with Coke.

     I finally got on the plane and we took off into the European night. The food wasn't bad on this last flight. Since it was Air France, we did get a meal. I wasn't a fan of the orzo, olive, veggie thing. But the rest was OK. The flight was uneventful. I even managed to nod off once or twice. I almost missed dinner that way. The flight landed at Boryspil airport at thirty minutes after midnight. I sailed through passport control and then got halted at the baggage carousel.
     Apparently, my one and only checked bag, the same bag that I contemplated not bringing on the trip, fell prey to the French strike. The bag never made it on to my originally scheduled flight. Neither did it find it's way onto my replacement. I received a text this morning (Tuesday the 22nd) saying it is on its way to Kiev by way of another plane. With any luck, it'll be here by Wednesday.
     For as many problems I had in Charles De Gaulle airport, none of them were with Air France. The air crews were professional and courteous. Their airport employees were helpful. The planes were comfortable and the food was good. I even had some good entertainment choices on the cross-Atlantic flights. 
     I waited about fifteen minutes for the bag to arrive. But it never did. I ended up filing a missing-baggage claim and leaving it in the airport's hands. I've never had to do that. It's a frustrating and helpless feeling when the things you expect to arrive with you never show up.
     My taxi was waiting for my by the time I was done in the airport. He got me back to my apartment safely. I finally made it to bed by 2:40 AM. It was so good to be able to lay down in my own bed and try to forget about everything for a few hours. I say "try" because, even though my body was worn out, my mind was piecing together all the little things that had happened in the previous thirty-six hours.
     Ultimately, all of that ordeal can be summed up in one phrase. "First world problems." When your biggest personal challenge is conserving battery power on two devices in a big modern airport, then you really don't have a lot to worry about. Through it all, I wasn't in any danger. I was safe, warm, well-fed, and had plenty of entertainment. If it sounds like I'm complaining, that's because I am. It was annoying and uncomfortable and frustrating. But thinking about it, the only major inconveniences were a travel delay and a late bag. And of course, none of that compares to the true nightmare scenario playing out in Brussels. 
     Right now, I'm thankful to be back in my apartment. I slept for about seven hours last night and still need more sleep. I'll work on that over the next few days as I roll back into my normal schedule. Speaking of schedule, I don't think that it will be normal for another week or two. I don't have any big events coming up. But David will be out of town next week with his family. They're heading out for spring break. That means I'll be leading English club on Sunday, Monday and then the next Sunday as well. Yet another situation to be solved by the ever-useful mantra "semper Gumbie." Always be flexible and ready for the situation to change.

Addendum 3/23/16: My bag arrived last night. I got a call about ten minutes before 11PM from the delivery guy. He dropped off the bag about twenty minutes later. I was surprised to see it so late in the day. But fortunately, after all the thousands of miles traveled, everything was still in the bag. Apparently the TSA thought it was worth looking through as it had a note inside and bag lock from them. It looked a lot more rumpled than the last time I saw it but I was glad to finally have it.

Iowa to Kiev in more time than it took me.