I’m in the plane now. Off to AMS. I was woken at 2:45 from nerves, I guess. Anyway, I picked up my phone and my sister Casey had written how excited she is that I’m on my way. Then she wrote:
Instead of Amsterdam to sfo, Amsterdam to Seattle than sfo and not with KLM but DELTA!!! Agh.
1. I fly with KLM / Air France because the attendants are cool and the food is good.
2. delta sucks!
My thought: oh not again! 4 hour delay. This has happened before. God! But wait- I get a refund! 400€ for the delay! Next flight payed for. Haha! It’s about 100€ an hour! Maybe I’ll go to Corfu and visit my friends from work in January, but I digress.
So, there is good in the bad.
I tried to sleep after- no doing. I woke, showered, brushed my teeth and grabbed a sweater that wasn’t offensive (was going to wear a nomeansno sweatshirt with a cartoon of a smiling man hanging him self next to a confused cat on the front, but realized that might mark me on customs).
I made coffee and put it in a jam jar so I could leave it at the airport (no time to take my time) than went outside for my morning cigarette… and last for 24 hours.
Oh god! I’m going to be traveling for 24 hours. Agh! I need a cigarette…
So I was now mentally preparing for this long trip, sitting outside on my front porch in Bremen, drinking my coffee and smoking and the taxi driver drives up very slowly. He is 10 minutes early. He looks like skin and bones and definitely a grandpa. I wave I’ll be right there and smoke the rest of my cigarette quickly, grab my bags ad head out. He meets me at the front gate. He is my height and definitely appears to be in his 70’s… but slow. As he walks towards me he walks through a huge puddle, smiling, shoulders hunched, and grabs my 20klo bag… he can barely carry it.
He seems kind. A very sweet disposition. He has an accent.
He gives me the option of sitting in the front or back. I choose the front. I ask to open the window, he opens it for me, than puts the radio on a young station. He was listening to Turkish music before – I liked that better.
As we drive he asks if the temperature is to warm in the car. I tell him:
„Oh no! I need the window open, because I’m afraid of flying. It helps me to calm and convince myself it will be ok.” Then he says in a strong accent “it doesn’t matter what you say, sometimes you’re head decides for you.”
He tells me he was a flight engineer from turkey and emigrated to Germany in 1973, but couldn’t get work because of his strong accent. So he became a taxi driver and is now 80! He drove ever so slowly and I was comforted by his stories. I felt this was a good start. We arrived slowly at the airport and he told me how nice it was to meet me. The bill was 14€. I gave him 20€. He wished me a lovely trip and shook my hand. I got his taxi card.
I then wrote my friend Ed to pick me up in SFO later than planned. After going through customs and that very strange non-X-ray machine, I fixed my bag after customs took it apart, because of deodorant. I asked the lady who was checking it if Setareh was there. “Who?” I spelled the name and said – “she is a very good friend of mine.” Ah! She is at the end of the scanners. I walked over and there she was (my friend,my hairdresser & style guru). She wasn’t allowed to walk up to me, but smiled and said hi from afar. She then made the shape of a heart with her blue rubber gloved hands and smiled. That comforted me too. Slowly but surely.
Everything else went smoothly… Now I’m flying! A scheißegal Tablet and I’m flying too. Amsterdam,here I come!