My trip home was far longer than my trip over. My first flight was from Kathmandu to Delhi, a mere 1 1/2 hours, which can seem longer when you are continually jabbed by the large Indian woman to your right. And there's never any acknowledgement of a jabbing, nor apology. We pulled up to a jetway at the Delhi airport but were instead offloaded via the front right door of the plane, right down to a waiting bus. That's a first.
I followed the signs for International Transfers and got in line at security, only to be told that I didn't have the correct boarding pass for my next flight yet. I was directed to a desk and waited in line. "Oh yes, I have your name on my list. Julia Hull, right? Take a seat over there." It was 4:45. I sat. And sat. I ventured over to the desk again to ask when I might get a boarding pass. "Air France will be here at 7:00." Huh? I'm supposed to stay put in this chair for more than two hours? I told him I had a business class ticket (I didn't admit that I used miles to get it) and would appreciate going through security so I could get some work done in the lounge. "Air France will come get you."
In the meantime, I witnessed a horde of people around the desk doing, you guessed it, absolutely NOTHING. By this point, I had decided I hated India. About an hour later, I was summoned. A goofy guy with big lips that practically drooled started slowly filling out my info in a handwritten ledger. Then he sat down at his computer and painstakingly typed, typed, typed. He hit "Print" and stared repeatedly at his printer. Then he stared at a few more people behind the desk. He switched seats with the guy next to him and then switched seats with the next guy down the desk. Somehow he actually managed to print my next two boarding passes for me and told me I could go to the Priority Lounge. Off I went to the "Ladies" line at Security.
There were no obvious signs to a lounge, so I stopped to ask at the Info desk. "Do you have a Lounge pass?" she asked me. I explained I hadn't been given one. "Well, they won't let you in without one. Let me make a call." She dialed the same phone number at least a dozen times, getting a busy signal or recording each time. At long last, someone answered, she explained the situation, and then directed me to the lounge without a pass. Go figure. Hard to get much done at the lounge when every website you click on is deemed a security threat. "This website is not secure. Would you like to continue?" An exercise in futility, and my flight wasn't leaving until 12:35 AM. I have never been so happy to board a flight. Ta ta, Delhi.
An Ambien allowed me to sleep most of the way to Paris, where we arrived at 5:45 AM. Once again, we pulled up to a jetway, and (you know what's coming) we descended stairs down from an Airbus 340 to the wet tarmac and the waiting buses. Not so funny anymore. I followed the signs for a transfer to the E terminal and ended back on another bus that stopped at every other terminal first. I only had 4 hours to kill this time. I asked an Air France employee about the lounge, and she haughtily looked down her nose at me and pointed me in the right direction.
I worked on my computer for a while and then decided a shower would be nice. Wonder if there was a reason I was assigned to the handicapped room. With good reason, I was not really looking forward to the last leg of my trip. Delta. An ancient 767, and flight attendants to match. 10 1/2 hours. Endless.
By the time I disembarked in Seattle (through an actual jetway), I didn't know which side of the world I was on. I breezed through the Global Entry kiosk, claimed my bags, cleared immigration, rechecked my bags to the main terminal, rode the train, and found Tom waiting for me.
Seattle, my house, my pets, and my husband have never looked so good. The weather was crappy, but everything was so green and vibrant. Our lilacs are blooming, the tree a friend gave me when my dad died in January is all leafed out, and my home looked particularly inviting. Best of all, the dogs really danced when I walked in.
In the last week, I did load after load of laundry, restashed all my climbing equipment, regained my appetite (I came home 5 lbs. lighter), and organized all my photos. I started to work out again almost immediately and can now almost make it through the day without a power nap. I sleep well at night, still reveling in the feel of soft cotton sheets, and continue to marvel at how nice our toilets are. Turning on the faucet to fill a cup with drinking water is still a great pleasure. Home sweet home.
I followed the signs for International Transfers and got in line at security, only to be told that I didn't have the correct boarding pass for my next flight yet. I was directed to a desk and waited in line. "Oh yes, I have your name on my list. Julia Hull, right? Take a seat over there." It was 4:45. I sat. And sat. I ventured over to the desk again to ask when I might get a boarding pass. "Air France will be here at 7:00." Huh? I'm supposed to stay put in this chair for more than two hours? I told him I had a business class ticket (I didn't admit that I used miles to get it) and would appreciate going through security so I could get some work done in the lounge. "Air France will come get you."
In the meantime, I witnessed a horde of people around the desk doing, you guessed it, absolutely NOTHING. By this point, I had decided I hated India. About an hour later, I was summoned. A goofy guy with big lips that practically drooled started slowly filling out my info in a handwritten ledger. Then he sat down at his computer and painstakingly typed, typed, typed. He hit "Print" and stared repeatedly at his printer. Then he stared at a few more people behind the desk. He switched seats with the guy next to him and then switched seats with the next guy down the desk. Somehow he actually managed to print my next two boarding passes for me and told me I could go to the Priority Lounge. Off I went to the "Ladies" line at Security.
There were no obvious signs to a lounge, so I stopped to ask at the Info desk. "Do you have a Lounge pass?" she asked me. I explained I hadn't been given one. "Well, they won't let you in without one. Let me make a call." She dialed the same phone number at least a dozen times, getting a busy signal or recording each time. At long last, someone answered, she explained the situation, and then directed me to the lounge without a pass. Go figure. Hard to get much done at the lounge when every website you click on is deemed a security threat. "This website is not secure. Would you like to continue?" An exercise in futility, and my flight wasn't leaving until 12:35 AM. I have never been so happy to board a flight. Ta ta, Delhi.
An Ambien allowed me to sleep most of the way to Paris, where we arrived at 5:45 AM. Once again, we pulled up to a jetway, and (you know what's coming) we descended stairs down from an Airbus 340 to the wet tarmac and the waiting buses. Not so funny anymore. I followed the signs for a transfer to the E terminal and ended back on another bus that stopped at every other terminal first. I only had 4 hours to kill this time. I asked an Air France employee about the lounge, and she haughtily looked down her nose at me and pointed me in the right direction.
I worked on my computer for a while and then decided a shower would be nice. Wonder if there was a reason I was assigned to the handicapped room. With good reason, I was not really looking forward to the last leg of my trip. Delta. An ancient 767, and flight attendants to match. 10 1/2 hours. Endless.
By the time I disembarked in Seattle (through an actual jetway), I didn't know which side of the world I was on. I breezed through the Global Entry kiosk, claimed my bags, cleared immigration, rechecked my bags to the main terminal, rode the train, and found Tom waiting for me.
Seattle, my house, my pets, and my husband have never looked so good. The weather was crappy, but everything was so green and vibrant. Our lilacs are blooming, the tree a friend gave me when my dad died in January is all leafed out, and my home looked particularly inviting. Best of all, the dogs really danced when I walked in.
In the last week, I did load after load of laundry, restashed all my climbing equipment, regained my appetite (I came home 5 lbs. lighter), and organized all my photos. I started to work out again almost immediately and can now almost make it through the day without a power nap. I sleep well at night, still reveling in the feel of soft cotton sheets, and continue to marvel at how nice our toilets are. Turning on the faucet to fill a cup with drinking water is still a great pleasure. Home sweet home.
What an awesome adventure. I enjoyed reading it all!!
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