M's most excellent airport adventure

If anyone can avoid air travel at the moment, do so.

Leaving DXB is worse than leaving the US, and I have that on authority from an American colleague who flew into Berlin, Germany today from Boston’s Logan Airport.

I flew out of Dubai early Sunday morning. Given that I was flying to Germany, I thought that I would escape the madness around what was happening in the UK.

Not!

11:45pm: At the first x-ray machine before check-in, I was called aside to unpack my computer, and told to unclip the battery and pack both it and the computer power cord into my small trolley as it had to be checked-in.

First issue: I do not check in any luggage. When we did this for the first time back in March, we lost our bags for 6 days. But I went with the flow.

12:10am: To the Lufthansa check-in area.

A Lufthansa representative, standing between me and the counter, zeroed in on me, asking where I was travelling to.
“To Germany.”
“Do you have a computer with you?”
“Yes.”
At which stage he became very authoritative and lost his smile.
“You must check-in the battery and the power cable.” (Would it be very wrong for me to say that I almost heard the German commandant in this Indian man’s voice?)
“But I don’t have any check-in luggage.”
“Well, you have to check your trolley – you cannot take the computer battery and cable onboard. You will be turned away at the next x-ray and told to come back here.”
“OK – can you guarantee that this time you will not lose my suitcase? The last time you took it away from me, I was without luggage for 6 days.”
“Madam,” (God, I hate it when they call me this!), “it is totally out of our control – it is the new regulations.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Now, I know that writing this down, it loses something – my emotion and his. For me, it was a heated exchange, as I usually am pretty cool – I normally leave the confrontation to J as she’s so good at it!

12:20am: To the counter. The nice smiling check-in lady got a scowl in return and to her credit, kept her cool. My nemesis Lufthansa agent returned, making sure that the check-in clerk knew that I had a computer and that my bag had to be checked in. She just looked at him and told him that she was taking care of it – no need to press the issue. My respect for her grew!

12:30am: With boarding passes for DXB-FRA and FRA-TXL in hand, I was off to immigration – a process made easier by my precious little e-Card which allows me to bypass the often horrendous immigration queues, only to allow me to queue earlier in the horrendously long Customs’ x-ray queues. Finally making it through, I’m called aside again. They’re interested in my Masafi water bottle.

The friendly Customs’ agent asks me to drink the water. After resisting the urge to drink, pretend to choke and fall to the floor clutching my throat, I do what she asks and am waved through – able to take my water – bonus!

1:15am: We board on time at 1:15am for a 1:45am departure. At 2am, the captain announces that because there is only 1 operational runway open at DXB (the other is being re-sealed), there is a backlog of 15 planes in front of us and we have another 20 mins at the gate before we can push back.

3:00am: We’re finally rumbling down the runway, taking off to the east before u-turning to head out across the gulf and onto Europe. Thankfully, I sleep through most of the flight, and waken about 40mins before we’re due to land.

7:10am (German time): If we had departed on time, in Frankfurt I would have had about an hour to clear German immigration and get to my Berlin connection. We didn’t - and I don’t. Although some time has been made up, we still arrive 40mins late at the B section of Terminal 1 and my Berlin plane is due to leave the A section of the same terminal at 7:35am.

Now, if you’re still reading and you know Frankfurt airport, you’ll know that this means running for the immigration counters, usually queuing behind the Turkish and Armenian passengers who arrived 10 mins before you and who are now all being viewed as terrorist suspects in the eyes of German immigration. Then, once you successfully get through this, it’s downstairs to queue for the x-rays, a mad dash for the elevators, a frantic race through the 500m tunnel underneath the tarmac between B and A sections, and up in another elevator before arriving at the gate, puffing and sweating like a marathon runner.

Our plane arrives at the gate. Instead of taking us off on the airbridge, we are mysteriously walked down onto the tarmac and shuffled onto buses which then drive us to the terminal. By now, I’ve given up making sense of anything, and resigned to catching a later flight to Berlin.

7:20am: Here’s where a small miracle and a window of opportunity opens up – I’ve beaten the Turks and Armenians to Immigration! In fact, it’s looking better than I’ve ever seen it - there's no queue at all! I’m through – racing for the x-ray machines…

7:25am: …where I get to queue behind the most frustrating person on this planet. He first forgets to take his computer out of his bag. Next, there’s his leather belt with the huge metal buckle – 1st beep. Next is the cellphone – 2nd beep. Oh – coins in his pocket – 3rd beep. I’m managing to keep my cool – I’m only screaming on the inside.

My turn. By now, my computer (sans battery and power cable) is out of my pack; my solid gold bracelets are off my arm; my cellphone out of my pocket. I throw it all in the bin and walk through the detector, pushing aside the doofus in front of me to collect my things, because he’s still standing there gazing gazelle-like at his stuff on the conveyor belt.

X-ray lady asks me if my computer is mine. Upon confirmation, she asks me to accompany her for a “special extra examination” of my computer. Another guy wipes over my computer with a piece of paper, feeds the paper into a machine and pronounces my computer to be free of explosive matter. Thank God, I’ve been really worried for some time now that my computer was thinking about being the next Little Boy.

7:35am: Upon reflection, it was a miracle that I had got to where I was in such little time, but now I'm aware that this is the time that my plane is due to leave, and I still have the tunnel to negotiate.

The elevators are all down, so I take the stairs. Down 3 storeys and 6 flights of stairs and I’m running through the tunnel – ignoring the moving travelators which are blocked by a stationary group made up of half the population of China, all blinking myopically at the mad white female running past them.

The elevator god is finally on my side at the other end. Because I’ve run past the majority of my fellow tunnel travellers, there’s only 5 of us in the elevator before the doors close to whisk us up to the departure gates. 2 Americans are gasping beside me, praying that they get their flight. Asking them where they’re going brings me the next stroke of luck – they’re on the same flight as me, and as they’ve had the chance to check the gate number, there’s been a gate change to the one that I have on my boarding card.

7:40am: The elevator doors open – it’s like a scene out of The Amazing Race as we sprint for the finish line at Gate 15. By now, the signs have been turned off and we have to yell at the counter staff to ask them if it’s the Berlin flight – yes, yes – go, go, go!

We’re onboard, and the door closes behind us - we get told that they were waiting for us. My elation lasts until 10 seconds after I sit down. I made the plane in 20 mins – a miracle for sure, but now the reality is that there’s no way that my bag also made it.

8:45am: We’re on the ground at Tegel in Berlin. While waiting to disembark, over the PA I’m asked to contact the cabin crew at the front of the plane.

Nope – my bag didn’t make it - but at least they know where it is this time. I must report to Lufthansa Lost & Found to report it. It will arrive on a later flight but they need my address and contact details.

9:00am: We’re familiar with Tegel’s Lost & Found office – we spent a few hours there back in March. J has now joined me as she was already in Berlin and has come to the airport to collect me. She gives the address details for delivery of my case, and we’re told that it should be delivered by 3pm.

3:20pm: A phone call to tell us to expect the case between 2pm and 7pm!

7:00pm: Still no case and we want to go out for dinner. J calls the Lufthansa number. Now, you’d think that it would be a free number, but no, we have to pay for the privilege of phoning Lufthansa to ask after the welfare of my missing bag. €10 later and J is talking to a woman who has no access to the Lufthansa computers, can give us no details and is no help at all. I hope that she's well-paid to take all the abuse that must be thrown at her.

7:45pm: A small white van pulls up with an equally small white man inside, who gets out to pull a small green trolley bag up the path to our door – my case has arrived!

8:00pm: We’re at the Indian restaurant, tucking into very delicious chicken vindaloo, lamb korma and butter chicken, with big glasses of cold beer.

As for my American colleague flying into Berlin from Boston: he had no problems. His intact computer was allowed onboard and security was a breeze.

J travelled to London for the day today. She reports that Heathrow looks like tent city, with tents outside the terminals to house people whose flights have been cancelled or aren’t scheduled to leave in the next few hours. Negotiating the guards with machine guns is also good sport!