A couple of weeks ago, I was due to meet up with a Scottish colleague in Budapest. As I made my final preparations at home before heading for the airport, the colleague phoned me up and explained that there had been a change of plans. Due to the volcanic ash spouting about in Iceland (flashback - 2 week holiday in Ireland from last year), he couldn't get out of Scotland. However, he as going to take a shuttle bus that the airline had organized to Manchester and fly from there. "Bryan, the whole bus is loaded with folks going on holiday! I am the only business traveller," he said with irritation.
Minutes later, he phoned again to say that he was cancelling his trip, as it was easier than trying to deal with the uncertainty of getting to Hungary, only to be trapped there due to the lingering ash.
Because the ash wasn't yet impacting German airports, I planned to go on with my trip. I finished my packing, checked the time, and realized that I was in danger of being late for my own flight. Normally, I try to take the S-Bahn to the airport as it is direct, cheap, and, as long as you are not trying to go during rush hour morning commute (when people sardine themselves on the transport so they can get to work), relatively stress free.
Though the S-Bahn runs regularly, I had procrastinated a bit too long at home and had lost 15 minutes or so. Thus, I decided to take a taxi to the airport, which would get me there with enough time to check in, etc. (note - the taxi takes about 30 minutes while the S-Bahn about 20. However, if you miss the S-Bhan, you have to wait about 15 minutes for the next one, and I had already used up that time at home.)
Upon arrival at the airport, I was pleased to see that things were not so hectic. I used the little check in kiosk, printed my boarding pass, then waited 2 minutes at the baggage drop off counter. Done.
Indeed, the leisure travel season has started, and Frankfurt airport was bustling, a mix of both business and holiday travellers. That said, I was able to relax and have a coffee at the departure gate and used the remaining minutes before departure wondering what would happen if the ash blew east and made things difficult in Germany over the next few days.
As a traveller, I have always felt more inclined to check my baggage. Surely I am in the minority, as time and time again, everyone seems to board the airplane with 2 or 3 pieces of hand luggage, which they then cram into the overhead bins. I often believe that flighs are delayed because people get all upset that they cannot put all their hand luggage directly over their seat, even though they know good and well that the overhead bin could never possibly store that much stuff, never mind that the bin in intended for all the passengers in that particular row. They have to hunt up and down the aisle searching for a small bit of free bin space.
Yes, it is quite annoying, but as I have plenty of other things to get worked up over, I just bite my tongue during the boarding and concentrate on the book I am reading.
On this past flying experience, I encountered something a bit unusual. Perhaps I have simply missed it in the past, but there were an unsually high number of people that could not seem to find their row on the aircraft. I do have to admit that, back at the gate as we queued to board, I glanced down at my boarding pass to note my seat assignment, then saw that someone in front of me apparently had the same seat assignment. Secretly hoping that the mistake would be corrected by upgrading me to first class (though on this length of flight, the only real difference is that first class gets their drinks served in glass as opposed to plastic cups) but preparing for the worst, I decided to just wait and see.
Seconds later I realized that we were boarding from gate A38, and my seat was going to be 38A. My mistake. The other passenger had a ocmpletely different seat.
However, once I got to my row and took my seat, suddenly someone motioned that I was sitting in their seat. Somewhat surprised, I pulled out my card to show that I was really in seat 38A. "Oh, what row is this?" asked the passenger.
Truly bewildered, I pointed to the little number 38 which was printed right above my seat and said, "38."
"Oh, I have row 37," remarked the passenger.
I pointed to the seat in front of me, and suggested he try that one.
Well, it turns out that some moron who was supposed to be on row 17 had sat down in row 18, and EVERY passenger had simply accepted that and followed suit, without bothering to check their row or seat .
In short, everyone from row 18 to the back of the plane (I was on the 2nd to the last row) had more or less sat down in the wrong seat and it took several minutes to sort out as people frantically tried to relocate their stuff from the overhead bins.
Through it all, the flight attendant kept her smile, though her eyes showed clearly that she was struggling to answer the question, "What the fuck is going on today?"
My visit to Budapest went quickly. Two days later, I woke up, thinking I had plenty of time to check out of the hotel and get a taxi to the airport. Previously, I had stayed at a hotel overlooking the Danube. Nice as it was (and is), they hike up their prices for the summer season, and I was forced to find a more economical hotel.
This hotel was fine, but pretty well filled with, yep, you guessed it, vacationers, particlarly a lot of travel groups. Thus, every time I got on the elevator, I joined 15 to 20 people who all seemed to know one another.
When I reached the reception desk, I kind of panicked. 15 or so guests seemed to all be checking out at the same time. I had not calculated on this. I glanced at the clock and figured I still had plenty of time to get to the airport.
20 minutes later, I was not so sure, but I signed my bill and ordered a taxi.
Turns out that everyone who had just checked out in front of me had also ordered a taxi, so suddenly I was in a new queue, and I was really wondering if I was going to be on time for my flight. My previous experience in Budapest airport had been a bit hectic; unlike Frankfurt airport where there are self check in kiosks for about 1000 people, Budapest has two machines, and one of them is always out of order.
I tried not to think about time as I stood in the sunshine with 15, then 14, then 13, then 12 other people waiting on taxis. Eventually, the concierge motioned for me to take the taxi that had just rolled up.
Like every other Hungarian driver I have ever ridden with, this taxi guy hurtled through the streets of the city, dodging busses, parked cars, weaving in and out of traffic without a care in the world. I bounced around in the backseat and told myself, "this is fun, this is fun, this is fun," while I looked at my white knuckles.
As we neared the airport, the traffic congestion eased up. We blurred by several other taxis, and I noted hotel guests number 12, 8, and 5 had been fortunate enough to get a taxi before me, but they were going to arrive at the airport after me. Maybe their drivers hadn't played the same driving video games as mine had.
With a bit of luck, I walked right into the airport, found the check in machine vacant, printed my boarding pass, gave my luggage to the lady at the counter, and started to relax. Plenty of time for a coffee (necessary travel ritual for me) and a telephone chat with a supplier.
Half an hour later as I took my seat on the aircraft, I heard a passenger standing directly next to row 22 ask to no one in particular, "can someone tell me where row 22 is?"
See you out there.
bryan
soundtrack
The Who - Quadrophenia (non remastered)
Thought Riot - entire catalog, on shuffle
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