Making my way to Berlin

Thursday, April 23, 2009
Traveling

When I found a great fare, I decided that it's time to visit Berlin. I may have decided, but I wasn't decisive. As I am wont to do, I thought out all the pros and cons until a couple of important pros sold out.

Whereas, if I had booked on the day I discovered the fare, I would have had a 50 minute layover at JFK, I managed to wait until the best connections I could find forced me to languish at JFK from 11:00 am until 7:00 pm.

A couple of days ago I prepared a hospitality gift of Georgia-made products, and other typical American fare: Girl Scout cookies, pop corn, peanuts in the shell, pecans, peach preserves, fig preserves. Where am I going to put all this stuff?

Showing up at the Atlanta airport at 7:10 for my 8:30 flight to JFK should have provided me with plenty of time. I could have breakfast at the airport, thought I. I went straight to the automated check-in and it showed only the ATL-JFK leg of my trip. Thus, I couldn't check my bag through to Berlin. So I stood in line for about a half hour to talk to an agent. Luckily, I had a nice conversation with the lady behind me in line, who was going to Shanghai on business. “After I get out of this job,” she said, “I'm not going anywhere any more!”

I finally got to the agent's desk at about 7:50 and asked to check my bags through to Berlin. The agent said, “But it's too late to get your bags on your flight to JFK.” I calmly asked her to try hard, and she checked my bag. Now rush to the gate.

At security, carrying my laptop bag, my backpack, my camera and phone on my belt, and wearing my jacket (it's going to be cool in Berlin at this time of year), I took off my shoes, followed some of the security instructions, and forgot to follow others. I beeped at the scanner, so I removed my belt and the change from my pockets. Although I traversed the body scanner successfully, the TSA inspector said that she would have to look more closely at my backpack.

I put on my shoes and reassemble my belongings, from 4 bins, and went to the inspection station to supervise the search. Turns out that my peach preserves, made in Georgia from Georgia Peaches, were too dangerous to take on board. Likewise my fig preserves. The hospitality gift I had assembled for my German hosts will be a little more meager than planned.

Down the escalator to board the train for concourse B, and about to board the train, I somehow noticed that I was missing my jacket. The only way back up to the security area was to use the elevator, which seemed to take forever. The agent at the conveyor belts suggested that I try the lost and found, where my jacket was, indeed waiting for me.

By the time I was on B concourse I was hearing the “Last call for passengers on flight 1834 to JFK; all passengers should be on board at this time.” I hurried through the boarding gate to stand in line in the jetway for 5 minutes. Then the plane was on the various taxiways, making its way to the farthest runway until it finally took off about a half hour late.

So far I was not having fun on this trip. No time for breakfast, of course

I squeezed onto the flight and into my seat. The man on the aisle and the woman in the middle seat let me into my window seat, and then returned to their conversation. Shortly, however, they brought me into the conversation, and I had a very pleasant flight chatting with them. The man is a decorator in suburban NY, but has a graduate degree in medieval history. The woman is a retail manager for a small chain in Augusta, but had been a cryptographer previously; fluent in Russian, she is married to another linguist who speaks Polish and Arabic.

JFK is a sprawling campus of multiple terminals. We disembarked in Terminal 4 at about 11:00, and I thought that I should find out where I would have to check in later in the afternoon. The helpful employees in the airport directed me to Terminal 3, and the “Airtrain” that would take me there. The train follows a circular route, counterclockwise. Terminal 3 is the first terminal in a clockwise direction from 4; therefore it's the last in a counterclockwise direction.

When I got to 3, I asked where one could get something to eat. “Terminal 4,” I was told. “No place else?” I asked. “After you go through security, there are restaurants in this terminal. You may check in after about 1:00 (that is, in 2 hours) for your 7:00 flight.”

Back to Terminal 4 for something to eat, finally.

I had thought that I might venture into The City during my layover. By the time I finished eating something, it was 1:00. According to my seat-mate on the previous flight, it takes almost an hour to get into Manhattan. I was told by the agent in Terminal 3 that I should check in 2 – 3 hours before my flight. 1:00 + 2 hrs for transport + 2 hours for check in would leave me 2 hours in Manhattan. Is it worth it? I don't think so.

Writing a blog entry seemed much more realistic.

I'm not much for starting a conversation, but I thought it would be helpful if I were to engage some German-speakers in preparation for taking on the streets of Berlin. Sitting across from me in the waiting area were two middle-aged ladies whom I addressed. We had a nice long chat about the son in San Diego that they visited and Indian villages, and so forth. All in all, I was satisfied that I'd at least be able to ask directions if need be.

The flight has been seriously overbooked, and they are asking for volunteers to give up their seats. They are offering business class to Frankfurt with a connection to Berlin + $200 in Delta vouchers. If it weren't the middle off the night in Berlin, I would call Martin and change my arrival plans. What a deal.

As it gets closer to flight time, they are offering a connection through Paris + $600. Yikes.

Finally, it's 6:30 and we are boarding. Next time you hear from me it will be from Berlin.