Wir sind zu hause
We're back! We survived!
It was a ridiculously long day, but once again, Jakob did very well. He woke up hungry at 3 am. Neither Werner nor I had slept well to then, and since the alarm was set for 4 am, we decided to just stay awake. In fact, we could have caught the 5 am shuttle, we were ready in time, but ended up on the 5:30 shuttle as booked. Because we had a little time, we each had a coffee at the hotel's breakfast buffet, and Werner had a nibble. I was too tired and disoriented to eat.
The shuttle driver wasn't the most patient man. There was one other passenger beside us (and she happened to be on the same flights as us, too). I had begun to get Jakob's carseat hooked into the middle seat of the middle row, but he insisted that the seat had to be in the back row. It was snug, but we managed to wedge him in, and the driver took off before we were even ready. The drive to the airport was short, and he dumped us unceremoniously on the side of the road - painfully close to the newly-discovered airport hotel - and didn't wait for us to get Jakob or the luggage away from the side of the van before zipping off.
We got ourselves organised and into the terminal. The Fraülein at the Austrian Airways check-in counter wasn't especially helpful. At the Lufthansa check-ins in Vancouver and Düsseldorf, the agents had always been very helpful, each time making sure we had a plastic bag to protect the carseat and also ensuring that it was accepted at 'special baggage' rather than risking the regular conveyor. Not this Fraülein. She also was reticent to give us tags for both parts of the stroller, insisting that they wouldn't be separated during handling. Um, yeah, sure. I insisted, and she suddenly revealed a capacity for English. I pointed out that we'd had two tags for each of the other flights, and she finally relented. We watched the unprotected carseat bounce along the conveyor belt and hoped for the best. As we walked away, we passed by the 'special baggage' drop, and I cursed the Fraülein under my breath.
Vienna airport was much better than Werner remembered. Of course, it was awfully early and so not much was open. We walked through a shopping arcade and past restaurants towards the pier with our gate. The whole way, we wondered where we'd go through security. Ah-hah, there's a security check at the gate. Each gate has its own. Ok, so much for getting a bottle of water to take aboard.
We were hungry by then - all three of us - so Werner bought croissants while I ensconced myself in an armchair at Starbucks and nursed Jakob. Werner dropped off the pastries, bought coffees and ate while I fed Jakob, and then took the baby for a diaper change while I ate. He came back from the diaper change grinning. The wheelchair-accessible washroom with the change table was in use, and there was no change table in the men's room, so an airport employee directed him into the ladies' room! He said he kept his eyes on the task at hand and got out as quickly as possible.
By then, our gate was open, so we went to security. We learnt at YVR that the stroller wouldn't fit through the X-Ray machine and would have to be hand-searched. Werner carried Jakob through the metal detector while I waited with the stroller. Sure enough, one of my boys set off the detector. One of the security agents held out her arms to hold Jakob so they could check Werner, and I squawked, "Can't I come through and I'll hold him??!" They did let me, and I got Jakob settled back into his stroller while Werner was cleared.
We pre-boarded along with one other family. Once the flight was completely boarded and closed, the captain came out to announce that we were delayed. Werner confirmed that the captain had said far more in German than English, but the gist was that there was a weather situation at Frankfurt, he and his co-pilot felt they could handle it, but we were delayed and had also missed our slot. It was clear he was pretty ticked, and apparently felt like he hadn't been given the full information.
As we sat there, waiting, Jakob began to fuss. I was desperately thirsty - I couldn't buy water past security - and my grande decaf Americano had, ahem, worked its way through. Werner asked the obese American encroaching on his space to let us through, and we all got out. Werner bounced Jakob in the galley (while the obese American let his hairy beer belly - ew! - spill over even further into Werner's now-unoccupied seat) and we chatted with the flight attendant while he gave me glasses of water and cursed the FAA's imposition of rules on non-American airlines.
The flight ended up being delayed for an hour. Jakob eventually napped, and we landed at Frankfurt with time to spare. Happily, we only had to go through passport control, not security, and so even had time to find lunch. Even more happily, we were at the A pier, not the B pier we've come to loathe for its smokiness and lack of facilities. Oh, yes, the A pier still had cigarette smoke, but it wasn't quite as pervasive. We had very good sandwiches at an Italian cafe (and talked with someone from the Fraser Valley) and bought bottles of water at a newsagent before it was time to board.
The Lufthansa agent who checked our passports and boarding passes assured us we could bring the stroller right to the plane - as we'd done with all the other flights - but was over-ruled by her colleague because "It will be easier for us" if we left the stroller at the gate. This annoyed me on two counts: first, it meant a greater risk of the stroller not making it on the plane; and second, it meant we (well, Werner) had to carry Jakob down a very steep flight of 26 stairs, rather than rolling him along and using the elevator.
Anyway, we preboarded, and found ourselves in the same seats as on the way over. The flight attendant in charge of our area was rather frosty, but her colleague was very friendly and even gave Jakob a soft, stuffed Lufthansa toy play (which he adores!) and gave him lots of attention. Seated next to us were two women (not travelling together); when they boarded, they were warned that they might need to move to accomodate another family with a baby, but in the end the family declined the bassinet seat. Why they'd do that is beyond me!
Jakob again did well during the flight. He wanted to nurse every two hours, as on the outbound flight. He slept in the bassinet, and while he was awake Werner and I took turns holding, cuddling, and walking with him. Happily for me, Werner took full responsibility for the diapers!
As with the other flights, I nursed Jakob during take-offs and landings, but this time Jakob didn't do so well with the landing. He nursed for a while, then suddenly pulled off, looked at me with an expression of deep betrayal, and started howling. Blood-curdling screams of pain. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Because he was so upset, he would neither nurse nor suck on his soother, either of which would have helped him with his ears. Finally, he suddenly accepted the soother, and once again all was right with his world.
We were, yet again, the last off the plane. The stroller was waiting for us in the jetway, and we headed towards customs with the flight crew. We stopped for one last diaper change before entering the queue for customs. It was quite a wait - the longest queue I'd ever encountered there - but it went smoothly, and our luggage was waiting for us on the conveyor. The luggage, but not the carseat. We walked over to special baggage; there were a couple of carseats in the sea of skis, but not our carseat. Jakob and I waited there with the luggage while Werner headed back to the Lufthansa desk for assistance. On his way, he spotted the carseat on the regular conveyor belt, meaning that it was on the "bash these items as you please" system for the whole trip. The canopy was dirty, but other than that it looked fine. I can only hope that looks are not deceiving.
All luggage retrieved and accounted for, we headed out and got a cab home.
We were zonked. Phoebe was ecstatic to see us. And Jakob saved a big blow-out until we got home.
I went to bed at 6 pm (exactly 24 hours after waking up in the hotel), Werner at 7. The phone range at 8, and I have fuzzy memories of telling Maria, "We're flying back to Canada tomorrow." I don't remember actually answering. The phone rang again at 10, but we didn't answer.
Home again. Back to the grind. SNAFU.
It was a ridiculously long day, but once again, Jakob did very well. He woke up hungry at 3 am. Neither Werner nor I had slept well to then, and since the alarm was set for 4 am, we decided to just stay awake. In fact, we could have caught the 5 am shuttle, we were ready in time, but ended up on the 5:30 shuttle as booked. Because we had a little time, we each had a coffee at the hotel's breakfast buffet, and Werner had a nibble. I was too tired and disoriented to eat.
The shuttle driver wasn't the most patient man. There was one other passenger beside us (and she happened to be on the same flights as us, too). I had begun to get Jakob's carseat hooked into the middle seat of the middle row, but he insisted that the seat had to be in the back row. It was snug, but we managed to wedge him in, and the driver took off before we were even ready. The drive to the airport was short, and he dumped us unceremoniously on the side of the road - painfully close to the newly-discovered airport hotel - and didn't wait for us to get Jakob or the luggage away from the side of the van before zipping off.
We got ourselves organised and into the terminal. The Fraülein at the Austrian Airways check-in counter wasn't especially helpful. At the Lufthansa check-ins in Vancouver and Düsseldorf, the agents had always been very helpful, each time making sure we had a plastic bag to protect the carseat and also ensuring that it was accepted at 'special baggage' rather than risking the regular conveyor. Not this Fraülein. She also was reticent to give us tags for both parts of the stroller, insisting that they wouldn't be separated during handling. Um, yeah, sure. I insisted, and she suddenly revealed a capacity for English. I pointed out that we'd had two tags for each of the other flights, and she finally relented. We watched the unprotected carseat bounce along the conveyor belt and hoped for the best. As we walked away, we passed by the 'special baggage' drop, and I cursed the Fraülein under my breath.
Vienna airport was much better than Werner remembered. Of course, it was awfully early and so not much was open. We walked through a shopping arcade and past restaurants towards the pier with our gate. The whole way, we wondered where we'd go through security. Ah-hah, there's a security check at the gate. Each gate has its own. Ok, so much for getting a bottle of water to take aboard.
We were hungry by then - all three of us - so Werner bought croissants while I ensconced myself in an armchair at Starbucks and nursed Jakob. Werner dropped off the pastries, bought coffees and ate while I fed Jakob, and then took the baby for a diaper change while I ate. He came back from the diaper change grinning. The wheelchair-accessible washroom with the change table was in use, and there was no change table in the men's room, so an airport employee directed him into the ladies' room! He said he kept his eyes on the task at hand and got out as quickly as possible.
By then, our gate was open, so we went to security. We learnt at YVR that the stroller wouldn't fit through the X-Ray machine and would have to be hand-searched. Werner carried Jakob through the metal detector while I waited with the stroller. Sure enough, one of my boys set off the detector. One of the security agents held out her arms to hold Jakob so they could check Werner, and I squawked, "Can't I come through and I'll hold him??!" They did let me, and I got Jakob settled back into his stroller while Werner was cleared.
We pre-boarded along with one other family. Once the flight was completely boarded and closed, the captain came out to announce that we were delayed. Werner confirmed that the captain had said far more in German than English, but the gist was that there was a weather situation at Frankfurt, he and his co-pilot felt they could handle it, but we were delayed and had also missed our slot. It was clear he was pretty ticked, and apparently felt like he hadn't been given the full information.
As we sat there, waiting, Jakob began to fuss. I was desperately thirsty - I couldn't buy water past security - and my grande decaf Americano had, ahem, worked its way through. Werner asked the obese American encroaching on his space to let us through, and we all got out. Werner bounced Jakob in the galley (while the obese American let his hairy beer belly - ew! - spill over even further into Werner's now-unoccupied seat) and we chatted with the flight attendant while he gave me glasses of water and cursed the FAA's imposition of rules on non-American airlines.
The flight ended up being delayed for an hour. Jakob eventually napped, and we landed at Frankfurt with time to spare. Happily, we only had to go through passport control, not security, and so even had time to find lunch. Even more happily, we were at the A pier, not the B pier we've come to loathe for its smokiness and lack of facilities. Oh, yes, the A pier still had cigarette smoke, but it wasn't quite as pervasive. We had very good sandwiches at an Italian cafe (and talked with someone from the Fraser Valley) and bought bottles of water at a newsagent before it was time to board.
The Lufthansa agent who checked our passports and boarding passes assured us we could bring the stroller right to the plane - as we'd done with all the other flights - but was over-ruled by her colleague because "It will be easier for us" if we left the stroller at the gate. This annoyed me on two counts: first, it meant a greater risk of the stroller not making it on the plane; and second, it meant we (well, Werner) had to carry Jakob down a very steep flight of 26 stairs, rather than rolling him along and using the elevator.
Anyway, we preboarded, and found ourselves in the same seats as on the way over. The flight attendant in charge of our area was rather frosty, but her colleague was very friendly and even gave Jakob a soft, stuffed Lufthansa toy play (which he adores!) and gave him lots of attention. Seated next to us were two women (not travelling together); when they boarded, they were warned that they might need to move to accomodate another family with a baby, but in the end the family declined the bassinet seat. Why they'd do that is beyond me!
Jakob again did well during the flight. He wanted to nurse every two hours, as on the outbound flight. He slept in the bassinet, and while he was awake Werner and I took turns holding, cuddling, and walking with him. Happily for me, Werner took full responsibility for the diapers!
As with the other flights, I nursed Jakob during take-offs and landings, but this time Jakob didn't do so well with the landing. He nursed for a while, then suddenly pulled off, looked at me with an expression of deep betrayal, and started howling. Blood-curdling screams of pain. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Because he was so upset, he would neither nurse nor suck on his soother, either of which would have helped him with his ears. Finally, he suddenly accepted the soother, and once again all was right with his world.
We were, yet again, the last off the plane. The stroller was waiting for us in the jetway, and we headed towards customs with the flight crew. We stopped for one last diaper change before entering the queue for customs. It was quite a wait - the longest queue I'd ever encountered there - but it went smoothly, and our luggage was waiting for us on the conveyor. The luggage, but not the carseat. We walked over to special baggage; there were a couple of carseats in the sea of skis, but not our carseat. Jakob and I waited there with the luggage while Werner headed back to the Lufthansa desk for assistance. On his way, he spotted the carseat on the regular conveyor belt, meaning that it was on the "bash these items as you please" system for the whole trip. The canopy was dirty, but other than that it looked fine. I can only hope that looks are not deceiving.
All luggage retrieved and accounted for, we headed out and got a cab home.
We were zonked. Phoebe was ecstatic to see us. And Jakob saved a big blow-out until we got home.
I went to bed at 6 pm (exactly 24 hours after waking up in the hotel), Werner at 7. The phone range at 8, and I have fuzzy memories of telling Maria, "We're flying back to Canada tomorrow." I don't remember actually answering. The phone rang again at 10, but we didn't answer.
Home again. Back to the grind. SNAFU.
posted by Melanie A at 8:10 p.m.
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