there and back again
Aug. 27th, 2002 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
threeplusfireAfter a quiet time, I left Brno around 3pm on Sunday afternoon. Czech Airlines put me on a shuttle bus to Prague, which is nice enough for a three hour drive. There was a massive motorbike gathering outside of Brno, and I saw dozens of people on shiny Hondas zipping through traffic. Alongside the roads there were hundreds of people hanging out on fences and bridges, watching them speed by in the afternoon. Very odd.
Made it to Prague without incident. (Another girl went by shuttle a few days before, and the bus lost a wheel en route.) Traffic was heavy in Prague. I tfelt so good to see the sprawl of red rooftops and cathedral spires. How that city makes my heart ache. I really don't want to be anywhere else in Europe. Crossing over the Vltava, the damage from the dirt and debris swept by the river was still fairly obvious.
Made my flight with enough time to buy an insanely cheap carton of Gauloises. Had an entire row to myself on the way to Frankfurt, so it was comfortable. Almost no immigration control to speak of when I got into Frankfurt around 9pm. Unwilling to shell out an outrageous amount of cash for the nearby Sheraton, I ended up sleeping fitfully til 6am on a bench in the airport. Not fun, not by a long shot.
My previous scary experience with a big blonde German woman was redeemed by the kind German woman who fed me while we waited in the impossible American Airlines check-in nonsense. She gave me granola and raisins and crispy bread, and I felt much better.
Checking in was a nightmare. I understand airport security is a hot button these days, and honestly it is important. But I did not enjoy my interrogation at 8am. The woman was highly suspicious that I had even been in the Czech Republic (hey it isn't my fault no one stamps the damn passports) and why was I going home earlier than my original plans, why was I flying out of Frankfurt instead of Prague, what was I doing in the Czech Republic, could I prove I had been studying, was my diploma from Masaryk original, etc, etc. The part where I became annoyed was when she scrutinized my certificate from the university, and then spent fifteen minutes conferring with other people about my damn piece of paper. I was given everything but a strip search before I got my boarding pass.
I loathe being stuck next to unpleasant people while flying anywhere. In this case, it was a bratty pair of German kids. The older one, about ten, was beside me, and kept invading my space. I wanted to strangle her with her grubby hair. Get out of my lap, I am not your mother. I contented myself with muttering in Czech, and I think her mother must have picked up on my irritation.
It took nearly an hour to get my bags, get through Immigration, and through Customs in Dallas. But it was oh-so-sweet when I did make it out, and Micah jumped up to greet me. We pulled one of those insane movie moments, spinning around and laughing.
I felt such profound and utter content to be under the Texas sky, even in the hundred degree heat. God it is good to be home.
If only I were a hobbit, then I could just trundle everywhere.
If only I could remember how to use the English keyboard layout so I don't have to keep fixing typos every second word.
Made it to Prague without incident. (Another girl went by shuttle a few days before, and the bus lost a wheel en route.) Traffic was heavy in Prague. I tfelt so good to see the sprawl of red rooftops and cathedral spires. How that city makes my heart ache. I really don't want to be anywhere else in Europe. Crossing over the Vltava, the damage from the dirt and debris swept by the river was still fairly obvious.
Made my flight with enough time to buy an insanely cheap carton of Gauloises. Had an entire row to myself on the way to Frankfurt, so it was comfortable. Almost no immigration control to speak of when I got into Frankfurt around 9pm. Unwilling to shell out an outrageous amount of cash for the nearby Sheraton, I ended up sleeping fitfully til 6am on a bench in the airport. Not fun, not by a long shot.
My previous scary experience with a big blonde German woman was redeemed by the kind German woman who fed me while we waited in the impossible American Airlines check-in nonsense. She gave me granola and raisins and crispy bread, and I felt much better.
Checking in was a nightmare. I understand airport security is a hot button these days, and honestly it is important. But I did not enjoy my interrogation at 8am. The woman was highly suspicious that I had even been in the Czech Republic (hey it isn't my fault no one stamps the damn passports) and why was I going home earlier than my original plans, why was I flying out of Frankfurt instead of Prague, what was I doing in the Czech Republic, could I prove I had been studying, was my diploma from Masaryk original, etc, etc. The part where I became annoyed was when she scrutinized my certificate from the university, and then spent fifteen minutes conferring with other people about my damn piece of paper. I was given everything but a strip search before I got my boarding pass.
I loathe being stuck next to unpleasant people while flying anywhere. In this case, it was a bratty pair of German kids. The older one, about ten, was beside me, and kept invading my space. I wanted to strangle her with her grubby hair. Get out of my lap, I am not your mother. I contented myself with muttering in Czech, and I think her mother must have picked up on my irritation.
It took nearly an hour to get my bags, get through Immigration, and through Customs in Dallas. But it was oh-so-sweet when I did make it out, and Micah jumped up to greet me. We pulled one of those insane movie moments, spinning around and laughing.
I felt such profound and utter content to be under the Texas sky, even in the hundred degree heat. God it is good to be home.
If only I were a hobbit, then I could just trundle everywhere.
If only I could remember how to use the English keyboard layout so I don't have to keep fixing typos every second word.
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no subject
Date: 2002-08-27 10:17 am (UTC)Real security in the form of baggage identification on the tarmac would not bother me half so much as these fake strategies designed to give the appearance of security. I'm supposed to believe these people are mindreaders?
Meanwhile, if you spoke German you could have given the parents a piece of your mind. They respond well to barked orders in their own language. I don't mind interesting children, for a period of two or fewer hours only when in airplanes.
Re:
Date: 2002-08-27 05:10 pm (UTC)I flew out of Amsterdam last year, and I didn't feel quite so strange about the questioning. Perhaps the person was just nicer about it.
no subject
Date: 2002-08-28 12:59 pm (UTC)When I was traveling a lot in the cafe-bombing ridden 80s, it seemed to me that full baggage inspection and identification caused less delay than all this hand-wringing, and had to be more effective.