what i'm doing on my summer vacation

what i'm doing on my summer vacation: the journey of one ego amidst many

introduction:

this essay is a work-in-progress. and has a limited mandate. it will (maybe) chronicle the first real personal-time break i've had in my life. unlike many wise people i know, i did not take a break - a year off, a semester abroad, the started but never completed first novel... these things all seemed like wonderful ideas in the abstract or for brave souls i know & encourage, but i had something really really really important to do: run for the bus that never came. the bus that was supposed to be the awesome payoff of tomorrow. like someone cliched once said: tomorrow never comes. so i seize a rare moment of personal insight coupled with initiative & take off for a couple of months. the continuing summer vacation long over-ripe. but hopefully not stinking or attracting fruit flies. we shall see:

day 1, nyc to berlin arrival.

i have found the Achilles heel (or ingrown toenail or everlasting callous) of the german peoples: air transportation. otherwise brilliantly together, organized & suspiciously efficient, the germans really let me down in the lufttransport department.

thanks to unknown delta pilot at jfk (departing around 6:30 pm-ish, 13.07.07 -- friend, you know who you are), my flight (& 19 others) were held up for hours and hours. there can be no excuse for such shoddy planesmanship and though i can't possibly understand what you forgot on that runway, i think that given the number of persons inconvenienced by your foolishness, you really should consider getting a bodyguard.

so, kind of an inauspicious start on a purportedly inauspicious date. realizing i'd now be missing my connecting flight from dusseldorf to berlin (why did i not fly direct -- for a savings of something like $45 -- mistake #1). i was assured however by the lovely flight attendant on my LTU flight that i'd still make it on time because we picked up some super fast jetstream just off of gander (i knew my countrymen would come to my aid). however, it was not to be. shortly before landing, said flight attendant handed me a slip of paper, telling me that i would now have to pick up my luggage and board a later flight taking me from dusseldorf to munich and then on to berlin. many apologies offered. however, since germany is the size of montana, the additional flight added something like an hour to my overall trek. no worries, right? wrong. LTU totally gave me (and the one other person in my exact same predicament, J.C.) totally wrong directions. J.C. and i waited and waited and waited for our luggage. it didn't come. friendly man at luggage area (who did not emerge from his hibernation until well after major luggage disasters had happened -- thanks for that awesome punctuality) said that we didn't have to wait. we were supposed to go get boarding cards from Lufthansa and be on our merry way. again, no sweat? wrong. let me interject here to add that both J.C. and i expected to arrive at about 10 am & i had told the guy (N.L.) i'd be getting keys from for my swank loft (well not so swank, nor as large as it appeared on c'list -- should have known given the apt belongs to a german ex-pat living in the mecca of apt misrep, nyc.) that i'd be at the apt at 11:00. J.C. was picking up keys from the sister-in-law of the woman he was subletting from around 11:00 too. not to happen. back to the drama. so, J.C. and i head up to the L'hansa ticketing counter. hello friendly lady (p.s. J.C.'s german about 10,000 times better than mine & he wisely brought a pocket-size dictionary. what did i bring besides linguistic egoism? two guidebooks with helpful phrases like "how much is that doggy in the window" and nothing even remotely, actually useful like "our flight from nyc was delayed, apparently our baggage went through, we need boarding cards for our next flight." lady at L'hansa said that she can't help us without a very German document a/k/a the "flight interruption statement". that, my unfortunate tourists, can be sought at the LTU ticketing counter. at the other end of the airport. goody. dusseldorf's airport was something of a delight. i still get giddy with hypoglycemia when i think about it. dusseldorf flughafen, thank you for your numerous cigarette machines and your no calling cards or atms. i considered taking up smoking just to use something in your airport. but i was busy finding my way to berlin, where i figured i would get emphysema from the smoking masses anyway. so, LTU lady says, hey you two, why didn't you wait for the LTU ground agent who was going to escort you to your next flight? huh, we said. all we got was this slip of paper which told us to go get our luggage and then connect to munich. no one told us that we should wait for an LTU agent. p.s. LTU, how about the agent standing just outside the arrival gate holding a sign that says Mr. C and Ms. M, come with me? this probably requires additional forms and disclosures, but well worth it. so, we now get a flight interruption form and are told that we should go get baggage from (turn right, then left, then go straight, past the cigarette machine, you'll then make a sharp left and look for the blond man wearing lederhosen and carrying a clipboard) baggagermann. hello baggagermann, wow. you really hide-out down here, hey? especially liked the added cryptic touch of having to walk through the washroom and the unmarked door. scotland yard be warned, this man could be operating a sleeper cell. luggage man says via intercom, who are you. we say, we are the people who your colleague (everyone is a colleague of LTU) called about. what call. what colleague. oh yes, come into my dungeon of luggage-y delights. please leave your sense of humour at the door. ah, luggage man. we looked upon with so much glimmery hope. but you said, hey there. are those bags in there, pointing toward a luggage prison where i believe luggage cried out for liberation. no, we say, with waning optimism in our voiced. oh. okay let me call my friend at the lost luggage department. aren't you lost luggage. no i'm misplaced luggage. lost luggage is another efficiently-run redundant department. oh and p.s. we have a major backlog because, well our german-engineered conveyer belt is broken. so we have sherpas moving the bags around. ok, i called my colleague over at lost luggage and he said i should call him back in 20 minuten, better make it halb-heure because he is in a state of chaos. you can wait or you can not wait. J.C. and i wait. for eternity. also no internet. not even paid internet. not even 1 bar. nothing. J.C. is slightly more impatient. he says that his parents would freak if they knew this was happening to him. ah, undergrads at ivys! i love you guys. so i am, compared to J.C., a bastion of patient-virtue. finally, after half an hour of staring at J.C. and thinking he's cute enough to kiss in a luggage room, another luggage guy comes out and says, hey your bags are probably here or in berlin, or actually maybe in munich, circling the carousel. but you should go get boarding passes. okay. i should mention that we are now going from dusseldorf to frankfort and then to berlin (sometime in 2007) because well, LTU doesn't do direct flights. that's so passe and who wants to go to berlin anyway. dusseldorf is so where it's at. well, we leave luggage area and head up to the lovely woman at L'hansa who helped us before. ah, you're back with a travel interruption form. lovely. but i'm the tickets counter. you need to check in. with no ticket, no confirmation number, we ask. genau, she says. go forth with the miracle of the flight interruption form. all is not lost. we stand in line for what seems like another hour watching with bated breath the time ticktock looming closer and closer to our 11:30 departure to frankfurt. finally, we're standing at the boarding pass counter. the flight interruption form is magic. we have boarding passes. we pass security which for the second time (this happened also at jfk) asks to go through my bag manually. tearing it apart to find absolutely nothing out of order. not even > 50 mL of liquid paper. whatevz. we are waiting at the gate. we board plane, we land in frankfurt. we connect to berlin. we are so delirious with the possibility of berlin, that i take out my guidebook for the first time on german soil and pore over places to eat in my new nabe, since well, i ate mealy bread on the plane and nothing else (except for an entire box of mints). quick sugar probably saved my life. arrival tegel airport. worst organized airport i've been in. ever. even new delhi made more sense. all the baggage comes out on belts right at the arrival gate. brilliant you say. not so brilliant if a giant "you are exiting the special area" sign stares you in the face and the "helpful" lost luggage sign tells you that you should go to the area opposite gates 5/6, but doesn't mention that you need to leave the special area. i go to the man guarding the special area / exit 4 life and ask about lost luggage. alles ist back there. oh really. okay. we wait until the handy "this was the last bag sucka" sign comes off the belt. finally, we decide to exit. if only to cry in the privacy of a washroom. we leave special area, find the lost luggage. lost luggage looks at our bag tags and says you need to go to lost luggage L'hansa counter. oh, i say staring at the lost luggage sign directly until it blurs in my vision and small black dots appear in my sight. where is that wonderful place, we ask. oh, you need to go left, then right, then left and then right and then straight, under a staircase, through another men's washroom and then it's on your right, after you walk the plank and swim through a canal. awesome. we find the place. there is 1 agent working and about 5 disgruntled people in front of us. we pray they are one big group. not so much. finally we get called up. we go up together. agent says, are you together? i say, we are practically married. i might be carrying his baby and am close to delivery. she says can we deliver your bags to the same address. nein. okay, one of you has to go stand in line again. i graciously offer to take the place in line again. i walk back to the line. the 50 people behind me collectively groan. i sigh. finally after 20 minutes, agent calls me up to join J.C. oh she says, you are in the exact same situation. oh yes we say. we are. oh she says. your bags are here in this very airport. they are, we exclaim! finally, the colour returning to J.C.'s cute face. yes. but we have this neat-o thing we do, where we have lost luggage in a special prison. not like those rubes in dusseldorf who just keep it on premises. after all this is berlin. wow berlin, you are so together with your luxury lost baggage accommodations. we find the lost luggage room. it takes about 15 minutes and many directions. oh there is our lost luggage, J.C.'s and mine. looking unopened and remarkably calm. hello lost luggage. i wave. luggage man grins. that smile is costing us time. move on, good man. we have luggage in hand. now we look for the S-Bahn. we find it. we buy tickets. we bid aufweidersehen and exchange email addresses on the platform, departing in two separate directions. ah lovely S-42. let me kiss your clean as canada interior.

end of story, you think? aber, nein. S-42 is acting like the L train today. it goes a few stops in my direction and then turns back. when i hear that we'll be arriving at westend again, i get out. ask for directions from the on-duty transportation guy. he tells me in german that i need to go back to westend, then cross the platform, go one stop and then cross back. ah i say, understanding some of it. nice boy named something like milchegefahren asks me if i speak english in english. i say oh god yes. i do. my english is actually gut gut gut!!! okay, he says. i am going in the same direction via the same route. follow me.

where are you from? (and here i get the very same reaction from all when i say) nyc. nyc? wow, he almost falls down from happiness. i'm going to be an intern at a graphic design firm in brooklyn. wow, i say. i live in brooklyn. brooklyn heights, he says. no, a very different type of heights. the heights of fried chicken and claw-like nails. so actually he is waiting to hear back about the internship and needs to work on the sly so he can actually afford to stay in the sublet he hasn't found yet. i give him my card. i get off at my stop. all the while, i've been keeping N.L. apprised of my whereabouts in annoying detail. N.L. is now resting at home. apparently, he had undercooked chicken as a colleague of his wife's home as payback for fixing the guy's computer. this payback kept coming back. ick. i get to his place, ring the apartment. he says, 3rd floor, which is fourth floor really. i walk in, see that there are stairs to my left behind a door that looks ominously the correct route. for the one-millionth time, i carry (rather drag) my suitcase (now much beloved after being MIA for so long) up to the fourth floor. no one named N.L. there. harrumph. i walk back, enter the courtyard and see another door. walk up the 3 flights (again dragging my bag) and see N.L. waiting at his door, apologizing for not explaining that i had to walk out of the lobby, outside and then inside again. nothing to worry about i say. he offers me a coke, which tastes remarkably generic-RC cola-ish. i get the keys. i leave after sweating all over his couch.

i go back on the S-Bahn, transfer to the U-Bahn (find the one elevator i can use, which does not smell like urine (hey NY, how about that?)) and get out at my stop. after walking a few blocks in the wrong direction, i finally find my street: maybachufer. nummer 2. across from a canal-thingy with real swans in it! and many cool looking outdoor terrace type eateries including one N.L. loves. get to my apartment, use the 4 keys i have to use (gotta hand it to M.D. - the guy i rented the apt from -- this is the safest i've ever been) to open the door, open the door and see that my loft-apt (first time lofting experience unless you count the time i slept over in montreal at the infamous loft on st. denis and stubbed my toe four times) is kleiner than it looked. g'd c'list.

i collapse in the apartment.

the end for now.