Last Saturday afternoon as I was finishing my packing, I realized that I was feeling a little out of practice with the routine of business travel. The company I work for put some pretty hefty travel restrictions in place several years ago, so for the past three years, I have hardly been on the road. Initially, I was relieved that I would no longer have to travel so frequently, but a couple of years later my opinion changed. I missed being out and about visiting partners in different countries, and the isolated feeling of working at home really started to bug me.
With the new projects I am involved with, I will need to travel a little more often, and that is exciting. The other week I spent a few days in northern Germany, and will be up there again within the next couple of weeks. Meanwhile, I was assigned the responsibility to manage our Hungarian site, so last Sunday I headed to the airport to catch my flight to Budapest, where I would spend most of the week at our repair partner, meeting with the team there, along with our external customer.
I was a little irritated that once again, my weekend was being cut short. However, I did sort of prefer to travel on a Sunday afternoon rather than on a hectic Monday morning. I arrived to Frankfurt airport without any issue, went to the little kiosk to get my boarding pass, then stood in the queue to check my luggage through to Budapest. Unlike many other business travelers, I almost always check my luggage, primarily because I'd be staying away for 4-5 days; you can't really cram all that much clothing into a little overnight bag.
Sunday travel tends to have more non-business travelers, and they all seemed to be standing in the same queue for luggage drop off. I found myself feeling a little tense as I noticed all the blank stares on the other passengers, who seemed not to have the slightest idea how the self service luggage kiosks work. These kiosks have been in place in Frankfurt for at least a decade, and I wondered why the other travelers did not seem to understand how to use the little machines. I took a couple of deep breaths and just smiled to myself. There are always plenty of other things to worry about.
Which is exactly what I encountered a few minutes later when I got to the security checkpoint. For the past 18 years, going through the security check and passing the carry on luggage through the x-ray machine has always been an aggravation. I know others feel equally frustrated with this process. Yes, it is important to have the process in place for our safety. My issue is with the lack of preparation that everyone standing in line (most likely complaining to themselves about the waiting time) who wait until standing at the conveyor before removing items from their pocket, taking their little baggy of liquids out of their purse or backpack, and doing whatever else the clear signs hanging above the area instruct us to do.
When standing in these queues, I always notice the more experienced travelers, who have clearly found their little system that helps them move through the check point as efficiently as possible. I, too, have my own little process, where my belt and my jacket are already ready for the tray. My laptop is already out of my backpack so that it can be scanned separately. And there is never anything in my pants pockets.
Again, I told myself to be patient as I watched people wondering aloud, "What are we supposed to do?" as they stood in front of the conveyor, apparently having completely ignored the very simple and explanatory instructional video on display that we had all just watched for the full period of time we had stood in line.
When it was my turn, I got my trays onto the conveyor, walked through the body scan machine, then went to wait for my items to come out of the x-ray machine. Frankfurt airport has a little separate conveyor for those items that need to be checked separately, or better said, scrutinized. This is not a new thing for me, either. Carrying various technical items always tends to light up the x-ray machine, but this time around, the guy said, "Hey, we really need to go through all of your stuff."
Lovely.
Suddenly, almost all the contents of my backpack were out on the counter, which was not really what I wanted to happen. A second man took the tray that contained my jacket and removed all the contents from the jacket pockets. These contents included passport, wallet, mobile, a packet of tissue, and three disposable lighters.
The security agent informed me that I was only allowed to carry one lighter, so I had to throw the other two away. In fairness, the guy was really relaxed about the whole thing (particularly in comparison to the personnel in various other airports in America), but I was irritated for two reasons: one, I was holding up the process due to my own ignorance, and two, I had to give up some spare lighters.
You might be asking yourself why someone would need so many cigarette lighters, and I can only offer a bit of an explanation. When flying, I never take my zippo, since I know it would be confiscated. Therefore, I always take a disposable lighter with me. In my normal daily routine, I always tend to put a lighter (or two) in my jacket pockets. Many times I have been asked to light someone's cigarette, and depending on the circumstances, I may not always get said lighter back. One particular friend from the pub, an actual employee, NEVER had a light, so always asked to borrow a lighter before going outside for his break. Then, he would forget to return the lighter, and I would forget to get it back from him. Lighters are like ballpoint pens, you ask to borrow one, then put it right into your pocket immediately after using it, simply assuming that it was yours in the first place. In short, disposable lighters are just as likely to disappear as to run out of fluid.
So, I made it through security and headed to my gate, making sure that I knew exactly where my one lighter was. (The other reason I always carry a spare is in case the first one is out of fluid, something that has happened to me more than once.)
Boarding our flight was pretty uneventful, and once on board, I just took a little nap for the 90 minute flight to Budapest.
I was actually looking forward to my return to this city; it has been several years since my last visit. I was trying to remember the set up of the airport, since after awhile, all airports start to look the same. As we arrived, it took me a minute to get my bearings before I located the "good" men's bathroom (safe havens are always important, no matter where you are in the world) and the baggage claim.
While waiting for my luggage, I exchanged some money, then grabbed my suitcase and headed to the taxi stand.
The airport is on the west side of the city, and my destination was actually in a little suburb on the east side of the river, about 35 minutes away by taxi, so long as there was no traffic on the roads.
We made good time, and I got to my hotel and was waited on my a very helpful reception attendant. The hotel was not in a location full of restaurants, the immediate area was a bit more industrial, but it did have a little bar (and restaurant). I unpacked, freshened up, then grabbed my book and went downstairs to have a quiet beer and snack.
The bar was empty when I walked in, so I had my pick of tables, and settled down to enjoy a quiet evening. I ordered a beer and told the waiter that I would likely order something to eat after I had a chance to peruse the snack menu. Hungary is not really known for it's beers, but the local one I was drinking tasted just fine, and I said as such to the waiter as I ordered a second beer along with a sandwich.
Two minutes, 50 people left the hotel restaurant and came straight into the bar. The penny dropped as I deduced that these people were all a part of the same travel group, whose tour coach I had noticed parked outside of the hotel when I arrived. They all seemed to have come from the UK, at least from the accents I was hearing. The bar was not overly large, so all of them spread out to almost all the tables. I was bewildered to find that suddenly, one person from each table then went directly to the bar to order drinks for each table. I do appreciate that hotel bars normally don't staff for onslaughts of patrons, but suddenly we had 10 people standing at the bar, each ordering 4 to 5 drinks to take back to their table.
Part of this seems to be a culture thing; I notice that in a lot of English and Irish pubs, no one seems to understand the concept of table service. The same thing happens frequently in my local pub in Frankfurt. It irritates me every time. In fact, it is almost as annoying as waiting until you get to the conveyor at the airport security check before starting to prepare to go through the checkpoint. (And both of these peeves are right on par with someone who goes to the grocery store, buy shitloads of stuff, then waits until the last item has been scanned before starting to pack their groceries into their shopping bags, before finally paying for their items)
At any rate, I focused on my book and my beer, and tried not to let the interruption bother me too much. True, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation, which revolved around people talking about the trip and various restaurants where they had eaten. I was dismayed to hear several people comment on the Italian meals that they eaten (in Hungary????) or why they had such a good time at the Hard Rock Cafe; I appreciate that not everyone wants to launch into the local culture, but come on. Why would someone not try to sample some local cuisine while visiting another country?
I finished my sandwich and figured it was time to head upstairs for the evening. However, because of the other patrons who continued to order rounds of drinks, the waiter never could get back to my table to check on me. So, I walked up to the bar myself to settle my tab, becoming slightly surprised when he asked if I was going to pay in local currency. In fact, I charged everything to my room, but asked him what currency had he expected from me. He went on to say that all the other guests had either paid with Euro or Pound Sterling. That had not even occurred to me; if the currency is in Forint, then that is what you have to pay with.
As I signed my own bill, I heard a lot of commotion in the lobby, and turned to see another busload of tourists arriving. This group seemed to be predominately Chinese, and I felt fortunate to be finishing up my evening before the bar became even more crowded. (I wonder what currency they would be using later on)
The purpose of the trip was to visit my repair partner, who will soon be taking on the repairs of mobile products for our customer in the Hungarian market. I have worked with this supplier for several years, and was really glad to be back to visit them.
As meetings go, things went really well. We had a lot of things to do during the course of the week, and like always, it generated it's share of stress. Three or four solid days in meetings just takes a lot out of you. More than once I remembered that despite the fact that all the discussions were held in English, I was the only native speaker. I don't intend that statement to be one of arrogance, but more so to highlight the importance of recognizing any potential communication issues. Once, we were looking at an excerpt from a contact, and one of the parties was unable to understand the text. I pointed out that the text did indeed mean what they expected it to mean, it was just stated differently. A very basic example of this is when someone says six or half dozen. To a non native speaker, this may not be so clear.
I always find such moments very endearing. After all, language is challenging, and communication is a bit of an art. I had lived in Germany for the better part of 10 years before I discovered that there was a second word for elevator, and that day was pretty enlightening, I must say.
Our hosts took us out for a couple of meals during our visit, and I was very fortunate to have the chance to visit some local spots for a bit of culture. Unlike some of the pasta loving guests staying at my hotel, I elected to eat more Hungarian cuisine during my visit. One night, a couple of the guys took me to a local pub that did specialize in burgers, which made for an interesting experience. True, the burgers were not necessarily my first choice, but the place was full of locals and that more than made up for things.
By the time Thursday came around, I was ready to return home to Germany. The week had been productive, but intense. One of the guys from our repair partner had mentioned that travel to the airport was a little difficult; sometimes it could take over 2 hours, depending on the traffic. I was booked on a flight that wouldn't leave Budapest until around 19h, but I wanted to avoid sitting in a taxi for multiple hours, so elected to head to the airport around 15h. Fortunately, the traffic was not heavy, so I found myself at the airport entrance at 16h.
Although the airport is not huge, it is busy. Check-in didn't take me long, but as I headed to security I did notice a busload of travelers arriving to check in at the Lufthansa desk; my instincts had worked well, as I realized that they would soon be trying to clog up the security conveyors.
And security was complete chaos. Some girl was feebly trying to direct people into various invisible lanes where the x-ray machines were. Once again, it seemed that everyone had forgotten the security process, and I was just glad that I had my ducks in a row, and only one lighter with me. I smiled as a I recalled the day before when one of my Hungarian host had borrowed my lighter, only to put it right into his pocket immediately after lighting his cigarette, prompting me to have to ask for it back.
Once past the x-ray machine, I stood waiting for my stuff to come through the conveyor. Everyone was a little grabby, but I shared a laugh with another person trying to collect their stuff. I kind of wished that I hadn't said, "it's the same fucking zoo no matter which airport we're in, eh?" as I wasn't expecting him to respond in English, and certainly not a New York accent.
"Have a good flight, Rabbi," I said to the clergyman has we parted ways into the waiting lounge.
I had three spare hours before my flight, and I wanted to find a place to get a good coffee and read my book. As I walked through the lounge, an employee from one of the luxury goods counters attempted to buttonhole me. I say attempted, because I didn't actually have a button hole on my jacket, and even if I did, she was not particularly tall. Certainly not tall enough to grab my jacket lapels.
(pause while I highlight this word buttonhole. Yet another example of an English word that the non-native speaker will very likely not immediately comprehend, at least not in the context in which I have used it here)
Anyway, suddenly a very cute employee was standing in front of me asking me a small question (as opposed to a big one), and I smiled and said, "Why not?"
This was highly out of character for me. In fact, despite the fact that I am a little easy when it comes to girls in ponytails, boots, and an extreme cute factor, I am usually able to smile and continue on about my business. In fact, I really can only recall two moments where I did actually stop to engage in such situations. Once, many years ago, some attractive woman in the grocery store tried to offer me Tom Thumb Turkey Bucks during a Thanksgiving promotion, which prompted me to respond, "Sure, what do I have to do?" even though I did not have the slightest idea what a Turkey Buck was.
The other incident was more recent, in my little corner of Bornheim. One afternoon I was walking home from the U-Bahn when a nice woman talked to me about making a donation to the World Wildlife Fund. Although I did stop to talk to her, I ended up declining to donate on the grounds that I already donate to Oxfam.
So, I suddenly found myself sitting on a stool at a luxury cosmetic counter, where said cute saleswoman talked to me about skin care. As I always tend to do, I noticed very quickly that she was more than just an attractive girl, and was rather a knowledgeable and capable saleswoman. I did not really have any interest in buying any product, but listened to her pitch, then realized that she might have something I needed after all. It turns out that she did, and as I picked myself up off the floor after she told me the price, I thought for a moment, "you know, Bryan, you might actually be saving money if you do buy this product."
In the end, I negotiated a bit of a price reduction, so instead of a ridiculously expensive product, I bought a really expensive product. And am really pleased with it so far. And, it served to take up almost half and hour of my three hour wait before my flight. Time and money well spent.
It was still a bit surreal to have such an experience, but a few minutes later as I was ordering an espresso, I was still smiling.
Until the lady barista told me that the money I was trying to pay with was no longer in use. I looked at the 2000 Forint note in my hand, then looked at her for further explanation. She managed to communicate that the currency changes out every so often in Hungary, and she pointed to one of the other notes in my hand and said that it was OK.
I realized that some of the Forints that I had leftover from one of my Hungarian visits a few years before are no longer legal. Fortunately it was only a few Euro, but still, I felt a little embarrassed. The coffee girl smiled and said no problem, and I sat down with a nice cap and read further in my book for another a couple of hours until it was time to board the flight.
My homeward flight was full of business travelers, which meant everyone was a real jerk when it came time to put things in the overhead compartments, and I was a little surprised (and dismayed) to find two travelers who almost refused to turn their laptops off and put their tray in the upright position before take off. These people had clearly traveled before, so why were they being so difficult?
In the end, we were able to take off, and I dozed during the short flight home. We arrived to Frankfurt around 21h, and I got my luggage without too much hassle, then went outside to find another zoo: the taxi queue.
Normally Frankfurt airport is really efficient, in my opinion. From time to time, I get agitated when we have to take a bus from the apron position to the terminal, but normally the frustration comes more from just wanting to be done with the flight, including luggage collection, etc.
This past Thursday evening, it was if everyone who needed a taxi had completely forgotten all sense of etiquette. It did not help matters that there weren't quite enough taxis, but it really came down to the confusion of where the actual head of the line was supposed to be. There is a little bit of construction going on outside of terminal 1, and even the taxi drivers are not so sure of where they are supposed to pick up the next fare. Again, everyone is in the same position. It is late in the evening, people are weary from travel, and they just want to go home. And they are really close to getting home, just as soon as they can grab a taxi.
After a few extended confusing minutes, I finally got my taxi, and was relieved to experience almost no traffic on the highway. Almost 15 minutes after getting in the taxi, I was pulling up out front of my house, thanks to the light traffic and a taxi driver who apparently plays a lot of "Need for Speed" in his spare time.
I keyed back into my flat, quickly unpacked, then headed over to the pub for a little refreshment before going to bed.
The week had certainly taken it's toll. I was really tired by Friday evening, but have enjoyed a very quiet, relaxing, restful weekend.
I am already looking forward to going back to Hungary, and maybe, just maybe, I might find myself buying some expensive healthcare products.
Why not?
see you out there
bryan
No comments:
Post a Comment