I’m going to get on the first of three planes to get to a conference in Michigan early tomorrow morning.
I am thinking about my last long travel day, which had me traveling without sleep for over 26 hours.
Those following me on social media know that the Munich airport made me cry, but not why, since I was too exhausted to explain.
I left my hotel at 3 a.m. It was too early eat in the Vienna airport, since things were closed, but I figured I could get something during my 3 hour layover in Munich.
For some reason, I wasn’t able to get the second boarding pass in Vienna, so I headed to my gate to get one as soon as I landed. Getting to the gate took about 45 minutes. For some reason, even though the gate was in my terminal, I had to leave my terminal and go all the way around, going through passport control.
Then I asked about getting a VAT refund for something I bought in Prague. They said that would only take 20 minutes. I followed the directions and found myself outside of security, because that’s where they keep the people with the stamps. I got my stamps and then had to get in the security line. I had my cane, so a guy pulled me out of the main line into a much shorter line. Then that line didn’t move. At all. I counted 43 people get through the regular security line before any of the 6 of us in the shorter line got through. Then I had to go through passport control again.
By the time I returned to my gate, my 3 hours was up. I remembered seeing a cafe by my gate and thought I could grab something while the first class people were boarding.
But the cafe was out of food. Out. of. food. Not a single bag of chips.
I couldn’t sleep on the plane to the States, and the food was awful, so I didn’t eat much. After going through immigration in the Dallas Ft. Worth airport, I found a southern/cajun restaurant, Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen, by my gate. I was exhausted. I’d been up for about 24 hours, and I didn’t know if my body was awake enough to eat, and I was seriously hurting from the travel b.s., but the restaurant had catfish, which I love. Craving this is one of the few things that marks me as a Southern-raised girl.
So I ordered it.
My waitress, who had already proven herself to be cheerful and conscientious, asked me if I was okay when I was just sort of staring at the wall.
I wasn’t.
And I couldn’t eat, even though the catfish was perfect.
I asked for the bill, but the waitress got the manager, who refused to charge me.
I tipped my wonderful waitress and got on the plane to Sacramento, on which a toddler kicked my seat again and again. (His mom at least kept telling him to stop.)
And I went to bed without dinner, because I just needed to sleep.
Tomorrow, I have a 2 hour layover in Dallas Ft. Worth.
Friends, appeal to the travel gods for me. I need to get that catfish and to eat it this time!!!
