München!

I still don't completely understand what happened with my ticket, because it took about 40 minutes last night and another 40 minutes this morning to unscrew it, but I finally was ticketed to Moscow via Munich. The United agent adamantly maintained that the whole problem was directly attributable to air traffic control directives, except that from my perspective, I seem to have been the only passenger who needed to stand around for an extra hour and a half to get ticketed.

If we gauge an airline's service on the basis of getting you from point A to point B, the United flight here was successful (i.e., the number of landings = the number of takeoffs). However, once we add in things like the beverage service ($5 for beer, wine, etc.) and the food (I never realized watermelon rind belonged in a fruit cup) the overall score begins to suffer.

I became something of a temporary father figure for a young woman just a little older than Natalie who was standing in line with me last night, helping her arrange for her hotel and dispensing some advice on dealing with having missed her connection. She and her husband work at a base in New Mexico, and she was going home to visit her parents.

It turned out she was on the flight with me and as we approached Munich, she came by my seat and invited me to meet her parents for coffee after we landed, which is how I've ended up on the other side of customs in the arrivals area, at an Internet point that operates via the use of chip cards that one buys (rents, actually, unless you want to keep a 5-euro souvenir) at the left baggage counter.

My impression of the airport here is of an open space, certainly more hospitable than the dreary confines of Dulles. The signage is bilingual (German and English), but what surprises me is that some of the major ads are entirely in English.

Or, come to think of it, maybe it doesn't surprise me very much.

This morning, I sent a lot of emails and made some phone calls about my situation, and it only occurred to me afterward that for the most part, virtually all the mail and left messages will be read and heard on Monday. This leads me to believe that I'm going to end up exchanging a chunk of my limited cash at the airport to pay for one of the (typically expensive) taxis into town. In the end, however, we'll see what we shall see.

I still have about 90 minutes before my flight for Moscow boards. I'm going to wander around some more before going back through security and passport control. The next rock, finally, ought to be from Moscow!

Cheers...

Finally!

The flight from Munich went well, though to tell the truth, I am so tired - between the transatlantic leg and the one this afternoon, I think I got all of about one hour's sleep - the description "went well" could mean anything: evading SAMs, alien encounters... you get the idea.

Passport control went normally. To my mild surprise, my bag was waiting for me. I passed through the green corridor and immediately started to scan signs held by various drivers at the outlet of the customs area for one that contained my name, without any success. While I was looking, I had to brush off offers of "Taxi?" from various individuals like mosquitos during the monsoon season in the tropics.

I made four passes through the crowd of greeters and decided that my sanity was not worth staying any longer or trying any harder, so I picked a likely face from among the swarm of willing drivers and we agreed on a price - somewhat outlandish yet still less than what I have paid in the past - for him to take me downtown. The driver, Vladimir, drives a nice Audi and carries some form of identification that made a traffic cop back off a stop for an illegal U-turn so fast, it was as though the poor so-and-so had accidentally tried to pull over the mayor's car.

It turns out our group is still at the hotel and will depart for Kazakhstan tomorrow, so my delay turns out to have been merely one huge pain in the butt, and not something that causes me to have to play catch-up as far as the campaign is concerned, with all of the concomitant unpleasantness.

Dinner tonight is still an open issue. I may not eat dinner, actually, but I am open to suggestions. I am much more interested in a shower and some serious rack drill for a generous period of time before leaving the hotel tomorrow.

Cheers...