Episode II

I stood at the bus stop outside of American Airlines headquarters talking to my uncle.  "Chris, if you can get the airport in the next two hours, you could you be in Europe by the end of the night." I immediately had a rush.  I'm going to Europe.

A few months ago, I wrote about one of my best friends and his battle with testicular cancer.  Not long after, Richard went into surgery and had every lymph node in his abdomen removed.  All the two could do was wait for an analysis of the biopsy.  I'm sure many sleepless nights ensued; the couple wondering if Richard would need to undergo chemotherapy.  Richard was recovering quickly from his incredibly invasive surgery but doubts still remained.  Initial reports indicated that the cancer was found in a few of the initial nodes removed from the abdomen.  This information was unsettling but the two had yet to meet with the oncologist.  One email exchange between him and I (turns out phone communication is difficult from different countries) expressed his anxiety.  Incredibly, his concerns weren't for himself but of his wife and his unborn child.  "I can't bear the thought of leaving Katy alone to raise a child."  At the end of the email, he shared that he would be leaving the next day to visit the Oncologist to determine if the drastic measure of chemotherapy would be needed.

I went about those days as I usually do.  I studied for my upcoming interview and worked tirelessly in the still cool spring weather.  It was nice having a distraction from the rest of the world and from my friend's problem abroad.  I had promised Richard I would come visit near his wife's due date and when I heard he would be having surgery, it solidified this desire even more. I would go see Richard, I told myself.  I kept telling myself that but the thought of it was fairly terrifying.  I'd never really left the country, let alone the continent and I didn't want to do it alone.  Having my aunt's airline travel passes made it very easy to travel for nearly nothing yet I was still hesitant.  I couldn't believe how selfish I was being.  If my friend can battle cancer, I can surely overcome my fear of the unknown to go visit him.

Then the news came.  The doctors were certain that they had eliminated all cancer in his body and chemo would not be needed.  This was GREAT news!  It was so great that he had finally caught a break, if one can even consider it a break.  I sighed a breath of relief as I went back to work but the roller coaster was far from over.  *Ding* My email buzzed what only seemed like a day later.  On a routine exam, the doctors have decided to keep Katy for observation.  My heart sunk.  The break was short-lived.  Katy, at barely over 7 months pregnant was finally showing the stress of the past several months.  She had been so strong for so long but it had taken its toll.

Once a day, Richard would send updates from Belgium.  His baby seemed healthy but at under 7.5 months, he was still premature.  The doctors had started Katy on a treatment so the baby's lungs would develop early.  Oh no.  They are preparing for an early delivery.  One email shared that if things continued in this direction, they would have to induce as early as the weekend.  I wanted nothing more than to be there for my friend.  I called American Eagle and inquired about moving the interview but it wasn't possible at this point.  When I emailed Richard of what I was trying to do, he scolded me.  "Take care of your future first.  Don't worry about me."  Selfless as always.  It was the Wednesday before the interview when I'd received the email above.

Thursday brought more bad news.  They'd noticed an abnormal heart beat sometime during the night.  Katy was being prepped for an early delivery.  They'd pushed the date up to Friday.  The baby was going to be born about 7.5 months into the pregnancy, prematurely.  It was becoming hard to concentrate at work thinking about what was happening on the other side of the planet.  Electronic communication kept us so close and yet I felt so far away.  Friday morning after my first flight, I received another email from Richard.  After monitoring overnight and through the day (it was late in the afternoon in Europe), they had decided to push off the delivery until Monday or Tuesday of the next week.  It was still early, but at this stage, I suppose each day in the womb counts.  I stood at our dispatch desk and exhaled a sigh of relief.  Things seemed to be racing at a breakneck pace, on the verge of being out of control.  I walked out to the ramp for my last flight of the day, relaxed.  The baby won't be born until Tuesday.  Everything is normal.  Good.

My emailed buzzed at me when I was walking in from my last flight.  It was from Richard.  "They found another anomaly in the baby's heart rate.  C-section in 45 minutes."  That was it.   It was approaching 11 pm in Belgium and Richard rushed to the hospital 30 minutes away.  His wife, the love of his life, was going into surgery merely weeks after he'd had one of his own.  With excitement and worry, he waited.  Shortly before midnight, on May 17, 2013, weighing barely 4.3 lbs, Henry Wille was born.  It would take almost a month before he would come home, but I am pleased to announce that he is a handsome and healthy baby.  Finally, a win for the family.

I felt more determined than ever to go to Europe.  So, when I packed my bags for Dallas, I threw in some extra clothes.  If I was going to be away from work, I might as well be away for an entire week.  I knew that I returned after the interview, I'd be less likely to go.  So, the original plan was to return to Orlando and catch the first flight out on Tuesday.  From there, I would make a more detailed plan of what I was going to do.  I had a list of things I needed and wanted to do before I left.  After talking to my uncle, I raced to the airport with a new "plan."  This plan was "go to airport.  Get on airplane.  Think later."

When I arrived at the Delta ticket counters in Dallas, my phone was screaming at me.  The battery icon was flashing and my phone kept telling me to...disregard...it's dead.  I walked through the ticketing area looking for an outlet with none to be seen.  My original plan was to list myself on standby once I got to the airport.  As I signed in, the password on my aunt's account had been changed. I had called my aunt from the American headquarters, but she hadn't answered.  When she called back, I was talking with my uncle about the best plan of action.  She left a voicemail but it was more bad news.  She had come from physical therapy and was going to take a quick nap.  As I sat in the terminal, I turned on my iPad (which was going to be my greatest asset on this trip) and tried to Skype call her with my 3G connection.  Nothing.  I opened my Verizon app and sent her a text.  Nothing.  I then sent my uncle a text and explained my situation.  All I could do now was wait.  It was a little over an hour from the flight to Minneapolis.  Nearly 15 minutes later, I finally received his response.  My timing couldn't have been better as he was preparing to go to the airport for his flight back to Asia.

I rushed into the bathroom to change out of my suit and put on more comfortable clothes, I checked-in, then I cleared security.  My first priority was to find an outlet.  I still hadn't called my mom to tell her the good news.  After the interview, I wasted my entire battery trying to get to the airport and figure out my next move--that and sending out nearly 30 text messages.  I sat for a few minutes at the outlet but it would be short-lived.  I had to board my flight to Minneapolis.  As I walked into the cabin, I found myself sitting comfortably in First Class.  It had been a long day of stress and anxiety.  I now had time to relax.  Before the plane even left the gate, I was asleep.

As we landed in Minnesota, I looked at my boarding document for the next flight.  That's not good, I muttered to myself as we rolled up to the gate.  I had 45 minutes before my flight to Europe left.  The airplane door opened and I was off.  First priority, find out where I am.  I found the airport map.  As expected, I had to cross the airport to get to my gate.  I took off on a slight walk-jog passing through the airport mall.  Yes, for those of you who have never been to the Minneapolis airport, it has a mall.  It is oddly disorienting when you first enter it.  With the exception of the signs hanging from the ceiling directing you to different terminals, it is designed and appears to be just like any normal mall.  It has a lady playing a harp or a piano (depending on what time of day you go through) and even a food court.  After my trot through the mall, I arrived at my gate with 30 minutes to spare.

"Excuse me ma'am, I am checking in for my flight."  Part of flying on a pass is that I have to be on standby for every flight.  If there are open seats, then I get to go.  So, I wasn't even sure if I had a seat yet.  They were just about to give away my seat and I knew this because she had to yell at the other lady to stop giving away my seat.  She handed me my boarding pass and that's when I made an important realization.  Unlike if I was flying to Ohio, if it didn't make this flight, I didn't think my luggage would clear customs without me, let alone make the trip from the Netherlands to Belgium.  "Do you know if my bags have arrived yet?"  They hadn't.  I asked if I could wait for the last possible moment to board so that I could be sure my bag makes it.  She said I could wait.  The other woman looked perplexed.  "So, you're not going to board without your bags?"  I was caught off guard by the question.  "Um, no?" I asked her back.  This was my first international flight ever.  I had no idea what to say and was hoping she would just tell me what to do.  She didn't and went back to typing nonsensically on the keyboard.  "Oh, Hey!  BOYES, your bags are here!  Board now!"  She seemed super excited.

I opened my iPad (my battery was again beyond dead) and shot a quick message to Richard.  It was nearly 1 in the morning in Belgium so I doubted he would respond.  "Delta 245, be there at 10."  I figured that was enough.  I would later find out that the message was fairly cryptic, but they eventually figured it out.  As I walked down the jetway, I looked at my boarding pass.  Seat 3G.  I stared at it and wondered if that meant I had to sit in the middle.  It did but it wouldn't matter.  As I walked onto the plane, I looked at my seat and with delight, found myself in business class.  For the first ever international flight of my life, I would be sitting in a chair that reclined flat to make a pseudo-bed.

Shortly after take-off, the surprises kept coming.  I received a glass of wine and a little bowl of hot peanuts followed by a hot towel.  I pulled out my own personal TV and started watching Life of Pi.

 As I sipped my Sauvignon Blanc, a flight attendant came by with my appetizer.  It was a tomato basil soup, grilled shrimp with a dipping sauce, and bread and butter.  I was starving and the food went quick.

 Like clockwork, my place was cleared and a wonderfully tasting salad showed up in its place.  Oh, and of course another glass of wine.

I barely had enough time to finish my salad when the main course showed up.  It was some sort of pasta with mushrooms and cheese sauce.  And yes, it was yum-yum.

As my place was cleared for the last time, I reclined my seat and put my feet up as I finished my last glass of wine.  THIS was amazing.  We'd been in the air a little over an hour and it felt as if it was no time at all.  As I continued to watch my movie, the flight attendants came around with one last cart.  Dessert.  I inquired to what they were serving.  It was vanilla ice cream with as many toppings as you can imagine: fudge, fresh fruit, nuts, whipped cream, and more.  After I finished my dessert, my movie ended shortly thereafter.  According to my personal TV, we were just leaving the eastern border of Canada and headed for Greenland when my movie ended.  I reclined my seat fully-flat, grabbed my full-size pillow rolled onto my side and went to sleep.

When I awoke, I realized that I had been asleep for 4 full hours.  The sun was beaming into the window of the woman who forgot to close her blind.  I didn't because we only had an hour left in the flight and needed to start getting ready for the second half of my trip.  This is one of the most amazing experiences of my life, I thought to myself.  I didn't know how true that statement would become as the journey continued.  I sat up and brought my seat into "Sitting mode."  A man came by and handed me another hot towel.  I wiped my face and hands.  "What would you like to have for breakfast sir?"  Breakfast?! I ordered the granola.  It came with a hot croissant, fresh strawberries, strawberry yogurt, milk, and orange juice.  As I finished my breakfast, I heard the engines whine down.  We were beginning our descent into Amsterdam.  I couldn't believe that we had been on a plane for almost 8 hours.  It seemed like barely 3.

I left the comfort of the United States and entered a whole new world.  While Holland is very similar to the US, I couldn't help but notice I was indeed in a different country.  Every sign was in Dutch, English and French.  The PA announcements were also in three different languages.  As I walked by news stands, they were filled with European newspapers and foreign treats.  I still appeared to be in my comfort zone but I know it had to be obvious I was new here.  I caught myself several times smiling like an idiot and almost laughing to myself.

I walked through customs and answered his brief but pointed questions.  It took me literally minutes to walk from the airplane to the baggage claim and out into main terminal.  It was then that I erred significantly when I didn't take that day to plan my trip.

I quickly took inventory of my situation.  My phone was dead.  I had originally planned on using it to call home to let them know I made it safe and to call Richard to find out if I was going to the city of the hospital or his home city.  I had forgotten to go to a store to get a power adapter for the European electrical system, so it was going to stay dead, at least for the time being.  I pulled out my iPad and quickly turned off my 3G.  No need to rack up international data charges.  As I scrolled through my settings, I couldn't help but notice it wasn't picking up a signal anyways.  Oh well, so much for that back-up plan.  Surely Amsterdam airport has Wi-Fi.  It did.  The sign-in page was in dutch.  I could make out a few words and the most important one was the one that worried me.  I had 2x30 minute free sessions.  So, I signed in and messaged Richard.  I needed to find out where I was going.

I walked over to the bank of ticket counters to try and find a train.  I found a lady at the information desk. "Excuse me, when does the next train leave for Brussels."  She looked at me kind of funny.  I now know that that question was ridiculous.  Only in movies is there a next train to anywhere.  She spoke in broken english and I understood that I had to walk to the international train desk.  I probably could've asked more questions, but the language barrier made me panic.  Maybe the guy behind the counter will be of more help.  As I looked over the list of destinations, I realized I saw NEITHER of the places Richard told me to go.  I pulled out my iPad and realized that I was already on my second 30 minutes of Wi-Fi.  I also noticed I had a message from Richard.  He wanted to call me on a number that looked like this: 03 05 0034 934 94 94.  Yep, I was in a different country.

I walked over to the bank of pay phones to try and call Richard.  Do they even have 1-800-COLLECT? My debit card had expired before I left and it was sent to my mom's house in Ohio.  She hadn't had time to send it to me yet, but I wasn't worried.  I could just use my credit card like I always do.  Cash is overrated, so I thought.  I had a quick sigh of relief when I realized the pay phone took credit cards.  When I slid the card through the reader and picked up the phone, the voice said that the day-pass was 20 Euro.  I hadn't done any research on what the conversion was but I was certain 20 Euro was more than $20.

I hung up the phone and thought about my options.  I didn't have time to setup my credit card cash advance before I left.  So, getting cash was out of the question.  My phone was dead.  I was on the last 10 minutes of free Wif-Fi.  Either way, I was going to pay.  I sighed to myself as I picked up the phone again and paid 20 Euro for the phone call.  Richard answered.  "CHRIS!!  Where are you?!"  We talked for a few minutes, it was a day pass after all.  He told me to get on the train to Soignies (pronouched SwaNEY).  I hung up the phone and walked over to the ticket counter.  "Next train to Soignies please."  He did some typing and said that it was going to cost me 40 euro.  I pulled out my card and he angrily said, "Chip and pin ONLY" only as he pointed to the sign above the card reader.

Apparently, there is a new technology everywhere in the world that the U.S. has neglected to adopt.  It is a secure system where an RFID chip is implanted into the credit card and when it is inserted into the credit card machine, the owner types in a PIN to verify its use.  I didn't know this technology existed or that my American MasterCard would be denied outside of the U.S.  I walked away and sat down near the phone bank.  I was in a foreign country that marginally speaks English.  I had no way to get money, I had 5 minutes of wifi left and my iPad had 20% battery life.  I was in a panic and contemplated buying a ticket back to the US.  Then I realized I had my 20 Euro phone day pass.  I quickly called the bank to set up my card for cash advances.  After verifying my identity, the lady on the other line said, "I'm glad you called us.  We noticed a charge from Amsterdam and since you didn't notify us you were traveling there, we were about to shut off your credit card."  Another thing I was planning to do before I left but didn't.  I set up my pin and walked over to the ATM to finally get some money.  I withdrew 200 euro thinking I wouldn't be able to use my credit card again.  As it turns out the exchange rate was 1.39 to 1.  Which mean that I'd actually withdrawn $278.  Oh, and that my 20 Euro phone call also cost $27.  Yikes.

Once I had gotten to Richard's, I know I would be fine.  It was getting there that was the hard part.  I spent 2.5 phenomenal days in Europe.  It was absolutely an amazing trip.  Richard and I spent every day going to the hospital. Katy, the understanding and amazing wife that she is, kicked us out of the hotel room and told us to go have fun.  We went into Brussels and Mons, ate some fine Belgian food and drank some amazing Belgian beer.  It is a trip I'll never ever forget.  Unfortunately, I had to start making my way back to the US.  I'd been away from work for almost a week now and needed to get my students flying again.  So, Richard and I looked up train tickets back to Amsterdam.

On Thursday at noon, he took me back to the train station.  Neither Richard nor I spoke French and the guy at the small train station didn't speak English.  I said "Schipol (the name of the Amsterdam airport)."  He looked at me funny. I then said "Amsterdam.  Airport.  Airport in Amsterdam.  Schipol." I may have even flapped my arms.  Stupid American.  He shrugged his shoulders and said something in French.  I knew the international sign for "I don't know what you're talking about."  I was frustrated that he didn't know where I was trying to go.  It's the second biggest airport in the Europe.  So, I just said.  "Brussels South."  I knew once there, I'd be able to find someone who spoke "English."

The rest of the trip went well with little issues...until I got to my last stop.  One thing I didn't realize until it was too late was the difference between my trip to and from Soignies.  On the trip there, the man behind the desk was nice enough to print me an itinerary including platform numbers.  I didn't realize how incredibly crucial this was.  On the way back, I didn't have this.  The first two stops, I had no issues.  When I arrived in Rotterdam, however, all that changed.  My train into Rotterdam was running 3 minutes late.  It wouldn't have been a big deal had there been more than a 5 minute difference between my arrival and departure.  I got off the train, 40lb suitcase  and 20 lb USAFA back pack in hand.

As I walked off the train, I look out over the platforms...there had to be 20 platforms.  Shit.  I found the stairs down to the terminal below and ran to the nearest information board.  We had exited the French speaking of Europe and entered the Dutch speaking portion. Having a dysfunctional grasp on Spanish, reading French wasn't too bad.  Dutch, though, was a completely different story.  I stared at the information board in PANIC.  I was hastily scanning the board looking for the High-Speed train to Amsterdam airport.  I found one, I thought, and took my bag and sprinted up the stairs.  It was the train I just got off of and was supposed to get there 15 minutes after the high-speed.  It wouldn't have been a big deal if I had planned to arrive more than 1.5 hours before my international flight back to the US.  But I didn't, and catching the high speed was critical.  I ran back down the stairs and found the right platform.  Again, sprinted up the stairs to the platform only to find that it was empty.  The train was gone.  Sulking to myself, I rode the escalator down to the terminal again.  I walked over to the board and tried to figure out what to do now.  There was no internet and Richard was at the hospital so calling him wouldn't have helped.

I again found myself lost and confused in another country, for the second time.  I needed to get to the airport as soon as possible because I was supposed to catch the last flight out of Amsterdam and the next day's flights were nearly full.  My best shot for the weekend of getting out of Europe was this flight.  I remembered back to my trip out to the woman at the information booth saying that the high speed train leaves the airport every 30 minutes and when I looked at the board, I confirmed this.  I had 25 minutes to kill but this 25 minutes was brutal.  I walked to the bathroom where I had to pay 2 euro just to use it.  I swore to myself as I put the 2 Euro coin in my pocket into the machine.  A gate opened, permitting my entrance.  I swore to myself.  Going to the bathroom cost more than a Starbucks coffee.

I was so mad at myself for once again planning this so poorly.  I yearned for nothing more than to turn on my phone and get Google Maps.  Tell me, almighty google, what is the fastest way to Schipol.  It worked when I was in Boston and DC.  But this isn't Kansas anymore, Toto.

I hadn't eaten for the entire 3 and a half hour train ride so far and not since 4 hours before that.  I was hungry.  As I stood in the middle of the terminal, I wanted nothing more than to be back in the US.  I irrationally cursed Europe and their confusing train schedule, their stupid languages, and their crappy coffee (I bought a coffee at a train station prior and it tasted like poop even with sweetener and milk).  I was freezing standing in my stupid American Eagle polo shirt when everyone else was bundled up in their warm jackets (it was 50 degrees in Northern Europe still).  I guess European train stations don't like to have heat and are all almost completely open air.  Yet another failure to do any kind of research before leaving my country.  I was pissed at myself.  Furious, in fact.  For someone as prepared as I usually was, I couldn't believe I had been so reckless.  As I walked through the terminal, I spotted it.  Yep, that's what I'm going to do.  I walked over to the small Burger King in the terminal, ordered a Whopper Meal, and drowned my anger in a chargrilled beef patty.  It was completely worth it.

Back on the train again, I kept staring at the time.  Why is it running on time NOW?  Why can't it be running early.  European train schedules don't have arrival times, just departure.  Doing some quick math from my first trip, I estimated I'd have about an hour once I got off the train.  I would still have to get to ticket counter from the station.  As my train arrived, I realized I had less time; 55 minutes to be exact.  I trotted out of the train and up the escalator to the main terminal where I was first lost.  I spotted the phone bank I used 3 days earlier and the looked up and beyond them to find the Delta ticket counters.  The signs on the wall just read "1/2" and "3/4."  Each wing took you in a completely different direction.  You are SUCH AN IDIOT! Once again, I was lost.  I saw a KLM Flight Attendant in her baby blue uniform and asked here where the Delta ticket counters were.  THANKFULLY she spoke English and knew.  I took my suit case and ran through the terminal.  I dragged my luggage behind me and my heavy backpack slammed on my shoulders and lower back as I ran. I was waiting for it break but it didn't.  I arrived at the ticket counters 45 minutes before departure.

Sure I had missed my flight, the agent called down to the gate.  The flight was delayed and they would let me and my bags on.  She smiled as she printed out my boarding pass, "It's your lucky day."  As she handed me the pass, I once again realized I would be in business class.  I walked onto the plane and sat down in my seat relieved.

What a trip, I thought to myself as I kicked my shoes off, reclined me seat and turned on a movie.  What a trip.