I woke to my last half day in Germany just in time to say goodbye to my dear Chrissy, who is going on the annual adventure tour several friends organize. One of the couples choses a 2-day itinerary that is fun, and the others follow in their cars without a clear idea of where they are going. They do this once a year on the last weekend of July.
For the rest of the morning I lounged around with Gustav, watching the prior to the last day of Le Tour de France, which is basically a brutal uphill route across the Alps. Those guys are crazy but they are also amazing athletes! We waited for a good stage to be finished and took off for the airport.
Frankfurt airport is huge, so it pays to get there with enough time to wander around. I was just entering the airport around 2 pm, for a 4:30 pm flight, when I get a message from Lufthansa letting me know the flight is full and offering to check-in my hand luggage for free. Cool! Like the idiot I am I went to the automated kiosk, printed the label, and deposited my backpack in an automated container that swallowed it into the depths of the luggage-eating monster. I was feeling very good, ambling myself toward the security check when, imagining I was going through passport control, I realized in a panic that my passport was inside my backpack! I broke in a sweat as I went back to the counter, to look for some human to help me. The nice lady at the counter told me the only thing to do was to call the luggage back. She got busy in the phone, and after 10 minutes wait in the phone she told me that not having my passport would not be a big deal, because there was no passport control in either Frankfurt or Stockholm. But she persisted on the phone, finally got someone, and after talking with him told me that my luggage would be delivered in carousel 3 of the Arrivals hall in about 30 minutes. She gave me precise instructions on how to get there and reminded me that I probably would not have time to check my backpack again so I should carry it with me in order not to miss the plane (it was 2:30 pm by then, so it seemed I had plenty of time).
30 minutes went by. Then another 30 minutes. So I left the hall and went to look for some additional help from the Service Counter of Lufthansa. Another nice lady listened to my plight, and went to check on what was known about my luggage and how much time I had before boarding. She told me the bag had been scanned and I should give it 10 more minutes, but the boarding time was approaching and I would be quite in a hurry.
I went back to the Arrivals hall, and 10 minutes later a nice man called my name and told me his colleague from upstairs had called, and he was going to try to see where my luggage was. Five minutes later he tells me that my bag is by the airplane waiting to be loaded. "Fine", I said, "can you please tell them to load it and I will pick it up in Stockholm". He assured me he would do that, but now I really had to trot to the departure gate, which happened to be the farthest in Hall A. I did have a photo of my passport in my cell phone, and I was ready to beg for understanding from any official who demanded to see my travel document. God protects idiots, and I miraculously boarded a flight to another country without a valid passport on me. I figured I would tell the Swedish officials that my passport was in the arriving luggage, and if they would just let me go retrieve it everything would be in order.
Alas, there is no passport control at the Stockholm airport,
at least for flights coming from the EU, and I was starting to relax when I got
a message from Lufthansa letting me know that my baggage had been left behind
at Frankfurt airport, but "not to worry" we will put it in the next
flight to Stockholm arriving at midnight. Somehow I was able to rent the car I
had reserved, reached the hotel, and waited for midnight, because I had to pick
up Géraldine who was arriving from Paris. Stockholm airport is really screwed
up, and only has about 100 m of curb in Terminal 5 where arriving passengers
can be picked up. But again we had good luck and met, and then I poured my tale
of woe into my friend's ear. Géraldine is a true Parisian, and was ready to go
fight with Lufthansa but I convinced her that there was not much we can do at
midnight and we will have to come back in the morning to pick up the missing
backpack. Of course everything I needed was in that backpack: passport,
medicines, emergency money, clothes. It was going to be a rough night, but
there was not much to do about it but bare my teeth and grin.
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