I am just back from Oslo, Norway. This was a business trip, and was short – only two nights there. (Three nights if you count the night on the airplane)
The outbound trip was uneventful, and the business meetings went well. I even got a cool waterproof windbreaker with a Norwegian flag out of it.
The trip back, however, was another story.
My flight from Oslo to Amsterdam was scheduled to leave at 6:40, so instead of staying at a hotel in downtown Oslo, which I usually do (more ambiance, more restaurants, more interesting things to do) I opted to stay at the airport hotel. Ostensibly to get an extra hour of sleep, but in reality so I would have one less type of transportation to worry about that day.
(You can ask my wife. All modes of transportation make me somewhat nervous. I tend to get to the airport a little before the recommended arrival time, and I am always worried about the next leg of the journey. She things I am obsessive, I think I am prudent)
I stayed in bed (though didn't sleep) as long as I could. I even watched a Steven Seagal movie called Half Past Dead. There is something viscerally appealing about movies like this. Sort of like Pro Wrestling. I mean, you know that the good guys will win, and there will be a lot of head crunching (or flying bullets and broken necks) on the way there. It was not the best movie I have seen late at night in a hotel room (that may have been Hello Dolly).
Since I wanted to get to the airport the recommended 2 hours before the flight, I got out of bed about 4:00 AM, showered and finished packing. The hotel's breakfast room was not yet open, so I figured I would get a coffee and a handful of peanuts at the business class lounge in the airport.
I walked across the street in the snow, in the fog, and got to the airport precisely at 4:40. There was one person in front of me in line, and I waited patiently. When it was my turn, I gave up my passport and the young woman told me I had already checked in. Yes, I said, but I had no printer in my hotel room (To make sure I didn't get bumped, I had checked in and changed my seats several hours earlier.) She gave me my boarding passes, and I noticed that my new seats were not on the flight from Oslo to Amsterdam. SO I asked her to change the flight, which she did gladly.
Now, you need to understand something about me and airplanes. I don't fit. I mean, I am 6'6” and about 218 pounds. That translates to almost 2 meters and almost 100 kg. These little intra-Europe airplanes are three across 737s and little Airbuses (I can never remember their numbers) even in business class. I have one seat I like in that airplane (1D if you must know. It gives me leg room) and I asked for it. I was glad I did.
After checking in (I carried on my bags this trip. Something I am doing more and more these days) I walked though security (Nobody in line at all. That was a first) and down to the lounge. Much to my chagrin, but I suppose not my surprise, it was closed until 5:45. We were supposed to board at 6:10.
So I walked to the gate to wait. And wait. And wait.
We finally boarded at the appointed time, and I got my nice seat with good legroom. Every seat on the plane was full (Norway shuts down for the week before easter – semana santa in Latin America, as well as the two days after. SO everyone was looking to get someplace warm). and then we waited to take off.
Remember how I always am worried about the next leg of my journey? Well, this trip had sort of tight connections in Amsterdam. I had 1 hour and 25 minutes to get from my gate, through security, and onto the Amsterdam to Houston leg of the flight. So I was already planning my exit from the plane and dash to the new gate.
Wed, 12MAR08 KL662 J HOUSTON BUSH INTL (IAH) 4:50PM AMSTERDAM (AMS) 7:55AM
Thu, 13MAR08 KL1143 J AMSTERDAM (AMS) 9:50AM OSLO/OSL (OSL) 11:40AM
Sat, 15MAR08 KL1140 J OSLO/OSL (OSL) 6:40AM AMSTERDAM (AMS) 8:45AM
Sat, 15MAR08 KL661 J AMSTERDAM (AMS) 10:10AM HOUSTON BUSH INTL (IAH) 2:35PM
And then the pilot announced a gate hold. He didn't know why. Weather? Maybe, it was snowing and foggy. More likely was an ATC hold over Brussels. They had installed a new computer system (probably new middleware) and it couldn't handle the traffic. SO we waited.
He said our slot was now 7:40 (an hour late!) and we could make up some time in the air. But then, Hallelujah! we got an earlier slot. You could feel him racing to the runway, but first we had to de-ice.
The de-icing made us lose our slot. Damn that ice! Damn those engines! Why couldn't they just take off with the ice in place? I am sure we had the power. But regardless, we waited.
We finally made the runway at about 7:45, in the air by about 8:00. He said it was about a 1.5 hour flight, and he was as good as his word. Now it was 9:30, and I had to get to another terminal (well, arm, anyway) through immigration, and through security in 30 minutes (if you are closer than ten minutes to your flight, they don't let you on.
I grabbed my bags, and rushed out the door. I stopped twice in the terminal. Once to confirm my gate (E18) and once to grab a cart. Sure, my bag has wheels, but my sweet, lovely, and long surffering wife has taught me many things, one of which is always grab a cart if one is available. (click here and scroll all the way to the bottom of the page)
Rushing through an airport always makes me feel like OJ Simpson. (the pre-murder one, not the killer one). I don't mind bumping into people who are lolly gagging or blocking the transit way. They need to either get moving or get out of the way.
I got to through immigration without a problem, and got to the gate with a few minutes to spare. Those of you who have flown through Schiphol Airport lately know, every gate now has gate security. I had to take out my laptop and blah blah blah. I set off the buzzer (and I have no idea why. I don't ever set of the buzzer here in the USA) and got the most thorough pat-down I have ever received. This fellow knew that I dressed left, if you know what I mean. But I was clean, and was able to walk right onto the gangplank.
The plane was a 747, and I was on the upper deck. It was a nice enough plane, and I got settled in quickly. The flight attendant came by with water, juice, or champagne, and I had to have a drink. I chatted with the ExxonMobil environmental engineer sitting next to me.
And we headed out to the runway. And we stopped.
The pilot said that we had a problem with our flaps. Not good. Not good at all. He said that maintenance had been called, and we would be heading back to the gate.
But we didn't head to the gate, we headed to a maintenance facility. For about an hour we could see the folks working on the wing. During this time, I took the opportunity to check the flight status using my phone.
Imagine my surprise when I saw the flight had been canceled! I told my seat mate and others nearby. there was a flurry of activity as everyone (including myself) started calling our travel agents or airlines to try and get a new flight. Continental told me that there was nothing they could do until we were off the plane and the flight was officially canceled.
Oddly enough, I was not at all worried by the delay. After all, it was my last leg! Sure I wanted to get home, but I knew that my Sweet Everloving had some errands to run and I would not see her when I first got home anyway. So I waited.
The crew decided to turn on the entertainment system and had out sandwiches and drinks. That was fun, and I got to see Scoop, the Woody Allen film (Better than Half Past Dead)
Finally the pilot came on and said that they had to replace a motor. This would take another two hours. We settled in for the long hall.
In the end, we took off (and arrived) five hours late. It was a bad travel day, but I got home none the less.
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