The name of the game is Flying into Atlanta on Stand-By in Summer.
Anyone who's tried to fly with a Delta Buddy Pass knows what a joy it can be. On one hand, I saved a ton of money. On the other hand, well, you're about to hear about that.
It just so happens that the two closest Buddy Pass approved airports are about four hours away. And so instead of making me take the train, my host family decided it would just be easier for me to go with them to Frankfurt on a little church trip so that if I didn't get on a flight, I could still have some place to stay.
Day 1.
My sweet host family drove me to the Frankfurt Flughafen, about half an hour away from where we were. I got checked in, sent my two ever-so-slightly overweight suitcases to wherever they send them and went up to security. Nobody was optimistic about me making the flight. And when I got to the terminal, I saw why. When it was time to rebook for the next attempt at getting home, the lady at the desk was beyond pessimistic. I didn't stand a chance of getting home until mid-August. I could try for New York, but as I know nobody there whom I could call upon for shelter, I decided against it. So I called up my family and they came to my rescue (after a couple hours when they were done with whatever they were doing). Poor Dana had cried bitterly and inconsolably when they dropped me off. And so I got another day in Germany.
Day 2.
My host family did not have the time to drive me to the airport, so they stuck me on a train with my two HUGE suitcases, each weighing 52 pounds, my carry on, which probably weighed too much, and a backpack packed to nearly overflowing. So many people helped me! When I got to the train station at the airport, I found that all of the escalators were either off or not working. Great. So I lugged the suitcases one-by-one up half the stairs until some nice people helped. The situation at the gate wasn't any different. As I was waiting for my baggage, one of the workers gave me a hint: try Detroit.
So I left my baggage at the airport baggage place for a few Euros. I was already getting callouses and there was NO WAY I was going to lug those things across Frankfurt two more times.
Day 3.
Things were getting desperate. If I didn't get a flight by the end of the week, I'd have a whole new set of problems, like where to sleep for starts, and maybe even visa problems if it lasted too much longer.
I did try for Detroit, which looked as bad as the Atlanta flights, and did not get on. Then I counseled with the gate agent again. There was the New York flight, but it would be delayed. Well, when flights are delayed four hours, people tend to get angry and fly on other airlines. Hello empty seats! When they finally called my name to get on, I really did start crying tears of pure joy. All thirty-something of us buddy pass people got on, which is a miracle.The delay meant that there would be no more connecting flights to Atlanta or anywhere else, though. I had to get from JFK to La Guardia for my morning connecting flight to DC. This is where I "slept" for a few hours. Turns out the luggage carts are more comfortable than the chairs behind said cart, where I first tried to sleep. Add jet lag, and BINGO. A nap. Sorta. Every time I finally fell asleep, some employee pushed a huge floor cleaner across the floor. The floor didn't look a bit better for it either.
I still wasn't home, but hey, at least I was finally in the proper country. That's the hardest part- getting across the pond.
Day 4: So I woke up waaay too early. We're talking hours before the place even opens. But I did make the wide-open flight to DC, where there are hourly flights to Atlanta. I didn't get on the first three or four flights. But then, lo and behold, there was a plane with an hour delay. I love delays. Delays get you where you need to go. At least on buddy passes, that is.
And so I arrived home, feeling as if I had accompanied Frodo to Mount Doom. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it sure felt like it took that long.
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