...Into the Wild Blue Yonder

If you are reading this, you probably do not live under a rock. So you know that moving is not the easiest thing to do. It’s not rocket science, but it is enough to send the most serene of humanity scurrying about in a futile attempt to pack everything they think they might need into boxes and suitcases and give themselves hernias in the process. Add on top of that the prospect of moving far, FAR away from one’s hometown and the tension becomes that much greater. Multiply that by a factor of going to a foreign country to attempt to settle down without a job or the proper paperwork to get one and…well, you get the idea.

Given that this was the first time I’d moved out of Tampa since my—let’s call it “eye-opening”—move to Tallahassee for school some seventeen years ago and I expected the morning of my travel to be filled by hovering over a toilet emptying the contents of my stomach from the wrong end. Needless to say, I was surprised this was not the case. Instead, I was able to enjoy a full breakfast with my soon-to-be father-in-law, cleaning my plate with the greatest of ease.

Surprisingly enough, the two hours I had left between flights at each stop proved to be more than adequate, though there were a couple times at Frankfurt when I feared this would not be the case. The first came when I realized I had to have my passport checked well before I reached the departure gate. Since there are roughly 215 ways to get from one gate to the next at Frankfurt (a prospect that can be a bit confusing for the uninitiated), I simply kept pressing on in the direction of gate A20 until I came upon a short, fast-moving line. A quick “hello”, or “hallo”, as it were, a stamp in the book and I was on my way—to the security line. I hadn’t anticipated that, but the Germans apparently take their airport security VERY seriously. You get off one plane and on another, you’re going to get your bags checked. And none of this screwing around with shoes crap, either.
The scariest point for me was there; my backpack was pulled off to the side and I was called upon to open it myself. Given that I’d filled my backpack with a 1.5TB hard disc drive, a Nintendo Wii AND a computer and I thought surely they were going to have me in an interrogation room for the next couple of weeks. A quick inspection on the part of the security officer though and it was finished quite painlessly.

The most difficult portion of the trip turned out to be the flights themselves. I had this idea that I would imbibe a bit the night before travelling and stay up relatively late so that I would be completely exhausted and unable to stay awake for my transcontinental flight, thus conquering jetlag quickly and painlessly. I forced myself to stay awake from Tampa to Philadelphia so that I would be alert upon arrival and tired enough to sleep on my way to Frankfurt. Just to be sure I was going to be able to get some rest on the flight, once I had found my gate in Philadelphia I stopped at a restaurant bar, got a little lunch and two beers, then another on the flight itself. Once on the flight, however, I had no way to get comfortable. I was in an aisle seat, the plane was packed, I was wedged firmly into my seat with my backpack completely unable to fit under the seat in front of me—it was a mess. I closed my eyes for what felt like several hours in a futile attempt at a sleep that remained out of reach.

And this is all without mentioning the fact that there was an air traffic control workers’ strike in both France and Spain that kept us on the ground in the plane in Frankfurt for an extra 45 minutes. So I arrived at my destination with a distinct odor of sweat, feeling unwashed, exhausted and much like I imagine a sardine does just before being consumed. But my bag was one of the first on the carousel, there was no one at the baggage claim to hassle me over whether or not I had picked up the correct bag and my bride-to-be was brought to the airport by our new roommate in her car, so I didn’t have to worry about taking my overstuffed baggage onto public transit. It was a great relief to fall into her arms a mere 19 hours after my journey had begun. Now, the real adventure begins…