Wednesday, 20 May 2009

Home Again

I’ve been home in Tucson almost a week now and this will be, reluctantly, my final “LFL at Sea” posting. It’s been fun keeping track of some of my thoughts and activities during the cruise; I know the blog will serve as my best personal memento of the trip. I hope my readers have found a few interesting items and a few moments to chuckle over. But I think the blog-world hasn’t heard the last of me.

Copenhagen: Thursday Morning (14 May)

Today is a big travel day and I don’t look forward to 20-hours of flying and airport time. For reasons that I cannot fathom I am unable to advance check-in for any of my flights even though I purchased the tickets back in January. Fortunately, the Hilton Hotel is on the grounds of the Copenhagen Airport and a relatively short trek to the terminal. AirBerlin (which used to be LTU, a charter carrier) has efficient check-in and I get a three-seat row to myself on the flight from Copenhagen to Dusseldorf and a two-seat row to myself on the 11-hour flight from Dusseldorf to Los Angeles. However, they cannot book my seat on United from LAX to Tucson and they cannot put my luggage all the way through (that is understandable, since I have to go through customs in LAX).

Things seem to be going swimmingly (or flying-ly) until 45 minutes pass and my wheelchair still hasn’t arrived to take me to the gate. Since I have to go through security and a long ride to the gate, I am beginning to get a little worried, but the AirBerlin person keeps calling for the wheelchair and assuring me that everything will be fine. Just as I am about to start hyperventilating—with my carry-on and laptop, holding a jacket and sweatshirt, and my feet in pain, the walk to the plane is just too far to make on my own—the wheelchair finally arrives and I make it to the jet way (with just a few minutes to spare). [It is interesting that European airport security doesn’t make passengers remove their shoes, even for flights to the US.]

We are taxiing out to the runway and the pilot tells us we are number two for take-off, when someone in the rear of the plane rings the flight attendant bell—and the entire crew goes running to the back of the plane. One steward comes up front carrying the evidence that someone has thrown-up and the plane heads back to the terminal. When we return to the gate two passengers get off the plane on their own feet, but there is an ambulance waiting that whisks them away. The pilot gives us a brief summary of the situation (pretty much what I have just described) and we are back on the runway and heading for Dusseldorf, all in about 30 minutes. You can imagine the passengers’ feelings: having international connections to make we are very grateful that the crisis is resolved so quickly.

Dusseldorf: Early Thursday Afternoon

From this point the rest of the international flights are quite pleasant. Although Dusseldorf to LAX is a very long 11 hours, AirBerlin keeps us busy with two meals (including wine) and a snack, lots of beverages, and several movies—all free. They even give us free blanket and blow-up pillow that we can take home if we like, but there isn’t a fraction of a millimeter of space in my carry-on or on my person.

I have a decent nap during the first part of the flight and then use my laptop for a while, watch Ben Stiller in Night at the Museum (silly but harmless), and read. The captain takes an almost polar route, flying from Germany over northern Scotland, Iceland, Greenland, Hudson’s Bay, the northernmost parts of Canada, then turning south and coming down over Seattle and the West Coast into Los Angeles.

Los Angeles: Late Thursday Afternoon

I have good wheelchair service when I deplane at Lax, and my chair-driver arranges for a skycap to get my suitcase (just one) and help me through immigration and customs, which doesn’t take long. They take me out to the service area where a shuttle bus takes me to the United terminal. The tips mount up, but these people are worth the money; I could never manage this on my own. Even with their help and the wheelchair I am still in a great deal of pain. I pop some methadone and another percocet and look forward to the last short leg of the day’s journey.

But that’s the last part of the trip that goes smoothly. When I check-in with my bag United still won’t give me a seat assignment and no one will answer any questions (“just use the computer screen!”). When I ask about a wheelchair (which I reserved back in January), the agent tells me I need to go all the way to the far end of the building to the waiting area. Right, like I’m supposed to walk there? Finally a helper comes with a wheelchair and takes me through security to the gate (for another $20. tip), where the agent tells me he can’t issue me a seat until 6 pm (it’s now 5:20) when the computer comes back up (where has it been?). He assures me that I have been given a seat—even the large video screen at the gate says so. At the same time he is asking for five passengers willing to give up their seats (for a free hotel in LA, dinner, and a free round-trip domestic air ticket). Since the next flight to Tucson is also over-booked, they won’t be able to fly out until 11 am the next day.

Then the agent calls me back to the podium and tells me that I left my credit card in the check-in computer—which indeed I had. Now I admit this is my own fault, but the lack of help when I checked in after 18 hours of flying should mitigate some of the mea culpa. So, it’s get another wheelchair to go back out to the check-in, get my credit card, come back through security again (take off my belt and shoes and take out the computer again), and head back to the gate (and another $20. tip), hoping I haven’t missed the start of boarding.

I return to the gate at 5:55, when the agent tells me that only two people have taken the offer and they need to bump another five passengers involuntarily—including me (in spite of his earlier assurance that I had a seat). I felt like crying (or screaming), but I simply said, very calmly, that my ticket shows I need a wheelchair in the airport, I am travelling alone, and I am physically unable to negotiate getting to a hotel and back to the airport, which indeed is the case—not to mention that I had bought and paid for my ticket over four months earlier.

Tucson, Thursday Night

I do get on the flight—very last row, very last seat (13D)—and back to Tucson on time at 7:52 pm. The past few hours have been agony (but when isn’t flying these days), but at least I have the memories (and all the pictures) from a wonderful trip.

I can’t wait for the next cruise. But I think I will fly to the farthest destination first and then take the cruise back home (or at least to a port that’s close).