We showed up at the airport at o-dark-thirty on the 23rd of June, bags in hand, ready to go. Delta and Continental had other ideas. After playing around with computers since '71, I thought I'd just about seen it all, but the airlines had a new one for me. Somehow my e-ticket number became unlinked from our confirmed reservation. Had it not been o-dark-thirty, I might have had the presence of mind to call the roaming gnome and retrieve the number, but that would come later...much later. (the gnome, by the way, resides on the sub-continent and has some training issues) The poor gal at the Delta counter was on hold with her own help desk for the better part of an hour trying to figure out how to proceed with us. Their answer turned out to be kicking the can down the road by selling us another ticket on the following flight out of town (having missed the one we were ticketed on) in the hopes that we could sort it out later. No problem, Mr. Mastercard fixes all such dilemmas.
No problem. If only. No, the Delta dispatchers arranged to have the flight crew for the aircraft we were to take to Salt Lake City arrive in Pasco too late in the evening the night before to satisfy the FAR requirements for crew rest. There was, of course, no backup crew at the end of the spoke. After delaying the flight past the time we could have made our connections to Bonn, the flight was cancelled and deadheaded empty to SLC. Needless to say, we were not the only unhappy campers that morning.
After returning home, and retrieving the ticket number from the gnome, we returned to the airport, twice, waiting for the line of angry customers to clear so we could fix our issues. The third time was the charm, and armed with the ticket number and the confirmation number, the nice folks (really) at our local Delta counter were able to fix things. Oh, boy, did they fix things.
The next morning we got out of town with no problems at all, made our connections to Newark, and found that we'd been seated in First Class for the long trip across the pond. Believe me, this beats the back of the bus hands down. It almost made the previous day's difficulties worthwhile.
Landing in Bonn early Sunday morning and meeting up with the daughter, we proceeded into Bad Godesburg where she'd been teaching and booked ourselves into the Hotel Kaiserhof. We couldn't have found a more convenient place to stay. Right across the street from the train and subway stations, and only a kilometer from the daughter's digs, it was ideally situated for us, and a nice place to boot.It's at this point that I should mention that the daughter was not feeling well when we arrived, complaining of a sore throat. I should also mention that since she was returning to the States the same day we were, she was no longer covered by her health insurance. Keep that thought in mind.
Most of my first day was spent crashed recovering from jet lag and the sleep deprivation caused by departing before the sun rose in eastern Washington. The wife and daughter did get out and have a good time together, and they eventually managed to roust me out for a walk down to the Otto Kuhne Schule where she'd been teaching. Nice place. I don't have a picture of it, but I was touched by a small garden memorial to "unser gefallen".
We continued our little excursion down to the Rhine. It may be difficult to see, but yes, that is a castle in the background. I was struck by the overall similarity to our home in southeastern Minnesota. Low hills, about the same size river, lots of water traffic, and of course heat and humidity. It was not the most pleasant of days to be out walking, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Monday was our major expedition day. We headed into Cologne on the train to see the sight. The Dom. The reason to see Cologne. Here's a quick photo of the wife and daughter in the plaza between the train station and the cathedral. The folks in red were Swedish football Fans. This was during the octo-finals of the World Cup and the whole country was nuts.You do not want to know how many steps it takes to get to the top of the Dom's towers. Trust me, it's a lot, particularly since the spiral staircase is narrow, steep, and has two way traffic. It's worth doing. Once.
That was pretty much it for Monday. Tuesday was rainy and we stayed around Bonn. We also made sure the daughter got in to see the doctor, paid of course by the limitless funds of the now First International Bank of Dad. The verdict: tonsillitis. A raging case. The pharmacist was also paid from the same source. Tuesday also saw us making a pilgrimage to the fine folks at the DeutschePost. You see, daughter had accumulated nine months worth of invaluable stuff which had to be either shipped or carried back by Mom and Dad. We had each arrived in Germany with a small carry-on. We each left with an additional bag. The post got the remaining six boxes and more cash from the FIBoD.
By this point in the trip I was very, very happy that Germany has earned a reputation for fine beer. It's amazing how many of life's ills are cured by a good dose of a well-crafted Pilsner.
The trip back was uneventful, although the whole trip was in cattle-class and one loooooong leg was behind a teenager who never did figure out that the lump in his seat-back was my knee. Such is life, I suppose. I'd love to rant on the subject, but it's late and I want to hit the xbox before bed.
