Travel... Purgatory?

Well, at least the end is in sight this time. I made it to the right country without too much trouble--left my apartment plenty early so the obligatory delay on the RER didn't make me miss my flight. I even managed to be one of the first off the eplane, and the very first through customs. But when I got to the bus ticket stand, I was informed that I'd barely missed the last coach. I had no idea what the bus schedule was coming but, but I doubt that even if I had known that I could have made it. At any rate, I've managed to get stuck in yet another airport, this time Luton in London. Tantalizingly close to my final destination of Oxford and my buddy Oiwi. It's 11:30pm here now(12:30 in Paris), and the next bus doesn't depart until a little after 2:00am. If all goes well, I'll be in Oxford before 4am rolls around.

At least I'm not in Charles de Gaulle Aeroport--Luton's way nicer. For one, there are shops open even at this alte hour, including a mini supermarket(Marks & Spencer) where I got a cheese and chutney sandwich. And the internet kiosks, while a bit expensive at 1£/10 minutes at least have real keyboards. I gotta kill a few hours, and I am sleep as hell.

I really need to look into getting a personal helicopter. Or maybe a jetpack.

Travel hell, 2nd Edition

As planned, I didn't go to sleep on Sunday night. I stayed up packing to try and make sure that I could sleep just the right amount at just the right time on the plane to avoid any jetlag. Unfortunately, the RER B(a metro line in Paris) had otehr ideas, and was delayed over 40 minutes getting me to the airport on Monday morning. I, and about 15 others on my flight, were turned away from the check-in counter, told it was too late. They wouldn't even let us try to get through security and to the gate.

I was put on standby for a flight an hour later that would have gotten me to OR roughly the same time. At 1pm Paris time, I waved to the plane as it left the gate, full, leaving myself and 5 or 6 other standby passengers stranded as Continental shut down for the day, telling us to come back 7 am the next morning to try to fly out on standby again. Rather than go back to my apartment, a 1.5 hour journey by public transportation, with no guarantee I'd make it back to the airport on time the next morning, I decided to tough out Aeroport Charles de Gaulle and make it my home for the next day and night.

Two of the other passengers, Adrienne and Ed, who were grad students on the way back to Houston(my connecting flight to PDX) from vacation and some neuroscience conferences in Brussels, chatted me up a while, but they ended up taking off to a hotel nearby. However, Cesar, a Mexican citizen trying to get back to Chihuahua via the same flight I missed, was planning the same thing as me, so we decided to team up to improve our odds of taming the fierce environment that we soon realized is probably the worst airport in all of Europe.

CDG is enormous. It takes an hour to walk from one end of the terminal to the other, and there are 3 terminals, each connected by a monorail sorta thing. Yet, every space is cramped. You can barely get two luggage carts abreast at most places, and the gates have seating for about 10% of the capacity of today's transatlantic jets. The airport was built for a time when it was a hub for many small flights, and is not suited for today's model of far fewer, far larger flights. Every chair in the airport is made of metal, with no padding. They practically all have armrests, making laying down impossible. Cesar and I managed to find a metal bench that looked more comfortable than the rest, but it was far from any electrical outlets, so we waited until no one was looking, and carried it about 20 meters to some outlets so we could charge our laptops(switching off on a power adapter I bought from an airport store--neither of us though to bring one, because we both expeted to be in North America before we'd have to charge). We bivouaced there, confident we had found the most optimal setup in the entire airport. This was a sentiment I confirmed throughout the night, as my wanderings int he terminal showed me dark visions of stranded business travellers in rumpled suits, heads tilted at unnatural angles trying to get comfortable on chairs designed to be implements of torture rather than welcoming waiting areas.

I played guitar for a while, opening up my case and making a sign that said:

Stranded!

Airport food too expensive!!

Please Help!!!!

A few people tossed me a few Euros, but airport crowds really aren't too sympathetic. At any rate, it was a good time, and Cesar sang along with some of the songs he knew(notably, Louie Louie, which also got the most grins from passersby).

Once I had collected a few Euros, I went off in search of food. Dining spots are few and far between at CDG. There aren't a lot of restaurants, their food is poor quality and expensive, and they close very early. I ate McDonalds there, something I haven't done in 15 years, because there just wasn't anything else available. It was awful and I think I'll avoid it for another 15 years. However, when I got hungry again around 11pm(as the McD's was my only meal that day), I was disappoitned to realize that even McDonald's had closed. I went everywhere in the terminal, a 2 hour trek for sustenance, but found nothing open. The airport was officially dead. I returned to the metal bench, where Cesar was watching one of my DVDs on his laptop. I broke out a clif bar I had in my backpack for just such an emergency. Cesar also shared a big bag of roasted peanuts he had acquired earlier. Mmm, dinner.

Bored out of my mind at midnight(did I mention that Wi-Fi cost 20 Euros, or about $30 USD for a 24 hour connection? I decided it wasn't worth it, which limited the ability of my computer to entertain me), I wandered over to a large group of French youths, looking to be mostly around 18-25. One of them had a classical guitar he was strumming on, so I asked him first if he spoke English, and when the reply came back negative, I asked in French if he'd like to jam. He nodded, so I brought over my guitar, and we played together for at least a couple of hours. I found out the group, mostly high school students from Bordeaux, was on some sort of humanitarian mission to Madagascar, and the other guy paying the guitar is about to finish up French law school himself. I told him a law student in the US, and we talked about what were interested in a little bit, though the depth of the conversation was limited by my french skillz(or lack thereof). At any rate, they were entertaining, and helped me kill time until around 5 am, when the nearly two days without sleep caught up with me and I had to catch just a quick nap. I was fully aware that if I slept even a little more than 2 hours that I'd probably miss my flight, but my eyes just wouldn't stay open.

Fortunately, I woke up on time, made my flight, got to Newark, and sprinted through customs and to my gate, barely making my 45 minute connection. 5 minutes later, none other than Ed and Adrienne, the couple who also mised the original Houston flight due to the Paris Metro, arrived ont he plane, red in the face and out of breath. They had the seats next to me, and seemed as relieved as I was to be on th plane. We laughed at the coincidence, and I congratulated them for making the connection. They were very nice and quite interesting, so we talked most of the flight, except for the 1.5 hours when Blades of Glory was playing as the inflight film(which was hilarious despite the tiny screen and the messed-up airplane audio). When I finally got O houston, I was excited for some good tex-mex, but disheartened to discover the worst airport burrito ever. I mad my connextion to PDX without problems. And after my mad dash in Newark, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my baggage actually made it, intact and with no delays, to my final destination. Apparently a baggage handler was running as fast as me. A festivus miracle.

Anyways, the rest of my trip has been great--I rented a car to drive into PDX, then spent a night at the bars with a bunch of old AEPi's, then went back to Seth's pad where I'm staying and we hung out until late, getting into one of those crazy conversations about life and the universe that only seem to happen when you meet an old friend after too long. I drove down to Eugene and stopped by LogicTools and Hillel before spending the evening with Brittany, then back up to Portland. On Wednesday, I had breakfast with Lach in P-town before driving down to Redmond.

Travel Hell

So we left off and I was just getting to Dulles airport...

My ticket to Las Vegas, where I was supposed to transfer to a flight to Eugene, said United Airlines. Prominently. On the first line. WIth no other airlines listed anywhere.

Like an idiot. I believed my ticket, and so I stood in line at the United ticket counter for 45 minutes. At the ticket counter, they explained that although my ticket said United, it actually meant US Airways, and so I'd have to go there instead. I complied, walking briskly across Dulles' huge terminal, and naturally, the US Airways rep explained to me that I'd have to go to even further, to the America West ticket counter, because they had merged and I'd actually be on their airline instead. United is at the furthest possible position from America West i at Dulles. I'd estimate it was about a quarter of a mile walk, and I was encumbered by two very heavy bags. I go to the America West ticket counter at 8:03.

My flight being at 8:30, they calmly explained that I missed the 30 minute cutoff and they wouldn't let me check-in. There was no way I'd be able to get to the gate fast enough, they said, and there's no chance they'd even let me try. It would be a disservice to me if they did, they said.

I completely lost my shit, essentially demanding, pleading, begging that they just check me in. They're wasting valuable time, I tried to expalin, there's still 27 minutes, I can make... Then there were only 25 minutes.. then only twenty, and then they asked me to leave.

I called orbitz, screamed at them for a while, and they refused to take responsibility. "I'm flying America West, but my ticket says United.. You put the wrong airline on my ticket, so it's your faultthat I missed my flight I told them." "The ticket is supposed to say United," they rejoined, "They're the issuing airline!" "But it's misleading to put the wrong airline front and center on a ticket! You put the wrong information there!" "No," they replied, "We put the right information there, and we're not going t argue with you about that. You should have paid closer attention. It's all in the service agreement you clicked next on."

I gave up. It was 8:25, my flight still ahdn't left, but there of course there was no way I'd be getting on it. I went back to teh ticket counter and asked to reschedule my flight. THey were nice enough to waive the $150 change fee, and set me up to go Phoenix at 7AM the next day, and fly standby to Eugene once I go there. I called Mr. Cimino-Hurt, and like the hero that he is, he came and picked up, aying he didn't mind driving me back to the airport at 6 the next day.

Fast forward to 6 the next day. I check in, and then start my stopwatch. I walk deliberately to security. THey pat me down, the whole deal. They single me out for special inspection, swab everything for explosives, and riffle through my belongings. Stopwatch is ticking.

I walk to the shuttle to my flight, wait for it to leave, and then exit it when it reaches the proper terminal. I heave my enormous bags to the gate, and take a seat while I wait to board. 17 minutes had passed since I left the check in counter. Bastards.

The flight to Phoenix was uneventful. I slept most of the way because I was exhausted, and when we got to Phoenix, I had plenty of time to get to the gate where my standby flight was leaving from. I was one of the first ones there, but when I asked the gate agents if I was going to get on, they explained that the flight was overbooked, so it would take an act of God for me to make the flgiht. I bought a cinnabon for breakfast, and I waited. Julie Portnoy walked by, and she was taking the flight. We said hello. She got on board the aircraft, since she had a real ticket and wasn't on standby. I ate my cinnabon and watched a fligt going to Eugene take off without me.

The next flight to Eugene wasn't until 5:30, 6 hours later. So I sat around, read a little, and waited some more. Around 4:30 the gate agents came to the gate so I asked them if I might make this flight. It was even more severely overbooked. Furthermore, the next flight to Eugene from Phoenix wasn't until TUESDAY NIGHT. I sat at the gate, and chatted with Mark Johnson, a philosophy proffessor who was on the flight. The whole time the gate agent was asking ticketed passengers to give up their seats because they were so badly oversold. I could tell I wasn't getting on this flight, either. Eventually professor Johnson boarded the plane. Eventually the plane took off, and again I saw my ride home leave without me.

The only way to get back home was going to be to go to Las Vegas, wait 26 hours, then catch a flight that miraculously had 1 seat still open. Fortunately, my grandma lives there so I had a place to stay, and I actually had a decent time visiting with her for a day.

I only had one more flight left, but of course there was no way it could go smoothly. I got to the airport with about an hour and twenty minutes, waited in line for 50 minutes, then asked an agent if there was any way she could help me get to the front of the line, because I thought I'd miss my flight. SHe just laughed at me and shrugged. I was freaking out and thought I could feel an ulcer start to develop, when another agent who had overheard came up and actually tried to help. SHe checked me in, and then told me I probably wouldn't make it, but I had better go as fast as I can if I want any chance. There was no way I was going to miss this flight, so again I went as fast as I could to security, where, of course, they decided to give me the 'extra inspection.' They made me unpack everything, they even confiscated my tiny swiss army knife, which I'd been flying around the entire country with and no one had bothered me about before, even in my last flight where I was given the special treatment as well. I thought they had reformed the laws a litte, guess not. ANyways, when they were finally done with me I was again sprinting down the terminal, still lugging around all my clothes and the ten pound paperweight that used to be my laptop. Breathless and sweaty I made it to the gate just in time. I think sitting down on the too-small seat on the little regional jet was probably the happiest single moment of my trip. Secure in the knowledge that I'd actually be getting home that night, I took a deep breath and relaxed.

first day in new york

i landed at newark at like 7:30...i slept a little on the plane but not much, and was so beat... i only got 3 hours of sleep on the plane and it was 4am eugene time. so i got on the train and it took me about 3 hours and plenty of transfers to get to crown heights. when i got off the subway there yerachmiel wasn't answering his phone right away so of course within two minutes a chasid came out of nowhere and asked me if i wanted to wrap tefillin, so i was like 'sure,' and we went into 770 to git 'r done.

when that was done with i went outside, and yerachmiel was actually right there calling me(he had been inside 770 as well) we walked the ten or so blocks back to his pad and dropped off my stuff, then went out for some breakfast.

yerachmiel had to work so i walked over to the subway and rode to penn station. i got out and was walking around 7th street and the fashion district, which was my first time above ground in manhattan. it was SO COOL. i ended up going into macy's to get a dress shirt to put on over my zelda t-shirt so i looked less like a tourist. (which i became painfully aware that i must after seeing how differently people dress here than on the west coast)

i walked all the way through 7th street, to broadway, walked through times square, and then stopped at columbus circle, where i sat and read 'the outside world'(which brittany lent me after reading it for a judaic studies class) for a while in the sun. then i walked through central park a bit and headed west to lincoln center then onto fordham campus where i got a guest pass so i could walk around and see what it was like.

i had a little lunch on campus, but i was so beat i decided to head back to the subway and go back to crown heights. the ride was almost an hour and i was pretty much asleep by the time i got there and walked the mile or so back to yerachmiel's apartment.

manhattan is rad, brooklyn is rad, new york is rad, and i'm having a great time so far. i'm not finding it overwhelming at all, just very exciting, and there's really a lot to see. i think i'd like it here a lot if i decide to study at fordham.