A nervous fever had taken ahold of me, creeping up from the depths of my abdomen, with each second of the clock ticking past, the closer I was to approaching my home country. It was the first time I’d be stepping foot on U.S. soil in nearly eight months. I could hear the wheels shuttering to ascend beneath me, as the nose of the plane began to gradually point forward toward the ground. The uneasy feeling of my short layover was reaching frantic paramount. I nervously tapped my feet on the ground, fumbling one hand around the other, while stopping briefly to obsessively check my phone for the time. My heart sank when the time seemed to start passing faster than I even thought possible – before I knew it, the plane was 25-minutes late. Eventually, we landed, taxying to the designated stop, and the flight attendant unlocked the doors, waving me through before the others, since she knew of my situation.
When originally booking my flight, I failed to realize how short an hour and a half would be to exit the plane, wait in line to pass through passport control, claim my luggage, and then queue for the border inspection area. THEN, having to drop off my baggage again, check into my flight, cross through the security checkpoints and then, finally, reach my terminal to board my next flight. Originally, I thought that I would be able to simply step through customs, baggage claim, inspection, then proceed into the terminal for my flight – however, the original international airline could not print my boarding pass for my second flight, because of an unforeseen computer error (which also came up for me when I tried to check in online, to receive my boarding pass on my mobile device).
So, I ran to the passport checkpoint, passing through with less than five minutes, then I grabbed my baggage which took 15-minutes longer than I had imagined in my wildest, unnerved dreams. Praying for a break to happen, I was literally waved through the luggage inspection check, properly welcomed home. Sighing a bit of relief, I couldn’t believe it – muttering to myself, “could this really work out?” With 35-minutes left until my flight, I proceeded to drop off my bag at the luggage transfer desk, and I sprinted to the terminal transfer bus. The bus I needed was to arrive any minute. Yep, any minute... Any time now. Another 15-minutes passes and I begin pacing back and forth, slowly freaking out. If I miss my flight, I fly directly to my destination in the morning from here, but my bag is marked for the transfer location, but not marked to go through all of the way, since I had an overnight layover planned, to save money on my flight cost. I kept thinking, “what in the hell is going to happen to my bag if I miss the flight??!”
Finally, the bus appeared, coming around the building. It sat for five minutes, before taking me to the terminal. I sprinted full speed to the check in desk, yelling at them that I only have ten minutes to go, and my flight was late. Before reaching the desk, they yelled for my last name, and within seconds of hitting the desk to stop myself, they had my pass printed and were shooing me off to the security check. Thankfully, no one was in line at either the check in desk or the security check, and so I threw off my shoes, belt, and tossed all of the things in my pocket out into the tray. Running through the security check, the officers asked me if I was late because of a German company – yeah, I don’t know? I tossed everything into one tray and took off with the tray to my flight gate, which happened to be at the VERY end of the terminal – yes, I took the tray, shoving things into my pockets as I sprinted down the lane.
In the end, I JUST made the flight, within seconds of the attendants closing the doors. I was covered in sweat after running through the terminal like a beheaded cheetah. Picture this: I was running with one hiking boot on, laces a strew, holding up my pants, with my belt flying like the flag of shame behind me as I went.
(Photo via iwanttobeapinup.wordpress.com)
So, I ran to the passport checkpoint, passing through with less than five minutes, then I grabbed my baggage which took 15-minutes longer than I had imagined in my wildest, unnerved dreams. Praying for a break to happen, I was literally waved through the luggage inspection check, properly welcomed home. Sighing a bit of relief, I couldn’t believe it – muttering to myself, “could this really work out?” With 35-minutes left until my flight, I proceeded to drop off my bag at the luggage transfer desk, and I sprinted to the terminal transfer bus. The bus I needed was to arrive any minute. Yep, any minute... Any time now. Another 15-minutes passes and I begin pacing back and forth, slowly freaking out. If I miss my flight, I fly directly to my destination in the morning from here, but my bag is marked for the transfer location, but not marked to go through all of the way, since I had an overnight layover planned, to save money on my flight cost. I kept thinking, “what in the hell is going to happen to my bag if I miss the flight??!”
Finally, the bus appeared, coming around the building. It sat for five minutes, before taking me to the terminal. I sprinted full speed to the check in desk, yelling at them that I only have ten minutes to go, and my flight was late. Before reaching the desk, they yelled for my last name, and within seconds of hitting the desk to stop myself, they had my pass printed and were shooing me off to the security check. Thankfully, no one was in line at either the check in desk or the security check, and so I threw off my shoes, belt, and tossed all of the things in my pocket out into the tray. Running through the security check, the officers asked me if I was late because of a German company – yeah, I don’t know? I tossed everything into one tray and took off with the tray to my flight gate, which happened to be at the VERY end of the terminal – yes, I took the tray, shoving things into my pockets as I sprinted down the lane.
In the end, I JUST made the flight, within seconds of the attendants closing the doors. I was covered in sweat after running through the terminal like a beheaded cheetah. Picture this: I was running with one hiking boot on, laces a strew, holding up my pants, with my belt flying like the flag of shame behind me as I went.
(Photo via iwanttobeapinup.wordpress.com)
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