FlavorMonkey

Short Version:

A seriously lost in translation moment. Then, serendipity.

The Long Version:

Because of the extra luggage I agreed to bring back with me to the states the peeps at the Herrenberg office recommended I make arrangements with the hotel to get a cab to take me to the train station. They told me to do it the night before to make sure it would be there on time the next day. Plus, there were threats of a train strike so cabs might be in short supply tomorrow; better that I reserve one now. So, after dinner, I went down to the front desk and asked them to reserve me a taxi for 6 in the morning…should be enough time to make it to the train station before the regional bahn rolls out at 6:25. The lady on staff asked me when my flight was so I showed her my itinerary: 10:35 AM out of Frankfurt.

“Oh no, don’t worry about the taxi or the trains. Our shuttle can take you to the airport!”

“Really? Great! Can you have me at the airport by 8 am to make sure I have enough time to get through customs and security?” I was a little worried about the interrogation I might get in Frankfurt. The frogs warned me to be careful about the words I used to described the contents of my bag. “Tell them you packed it yourself!” “Don’t say ‘merchandise’ say ‘gift’ because they are looking for any excuse to tax you!” “The last thing you want is for them to take you out of the queue and make you unpack all your stuff!”

“Hang on, I will check.” She retreats to the office and speaks with another woman for a few moments then returns. “Yes, we can have the shuttle for you at 8.”

“You mean, be at the airport at 8″ I asked, unsure about what she was telling me.

“Yes, we take you at 8.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought she meant. “No, I need to be there at 8…because of the security.”

“No! No! Don’t worry, security will not be bad at all. You will have plenty of time.”

I looked at her askance, perhaps incredulously. Perhaps both. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, yes! I am sure. You can trust me.” Her smile beamed.

“Ok…I suppose.” And I returned to my room happy that I would be taking a shuttle directly to the airport instead of having to wrangle my luggage and the “body bag” through train stations.

The next morning I was in the lobby and ready to go by 7, so I hung out and worked on some code until the shuttle arrived at 8. The guy assisting with luggage saw my “body bag” and pursed his lips. “Now we have problems. This will not fit in shuttle.” At this point I would tell you that I felt a knot in my stomach, because I did. But little did I know that it would be nothing compared to pile of bricks I would feel in my gut about 40 minutes later.

He lead me out to the “shuttle.” Apparently the term “shuttle” in Germany means “tiny car.” I’m talking small, Ford Fiesta small. But one of the back seats was folded down and the golf bag was successfully wedged into the vehicle. Thank God only I and a gentlemen from Spain would be going to the airport. The driver was a young girl also from Spain, so she and the older man sat in the front and yacked away during the drive. That was fine by me as I was completely enraptured by the German countryside, which although mostly green, was still marked by snowy patches. It was also my very first time on a legendary autobahn. But there was only one problem…the signs I kept seeing.

They all said “Stuttgart Airport.” And it dawned on me where we were heading.

Enter pile of bricks in the pit of my stomach.

I politely asked the driver, “Are you taking us to the Stuttgart airport?”

“Yes.”

“I’m supposed to be going to the Frankfurt airport.”

Her eyes momentarily bugged out and a nervous laugh escaped from her mouth. “I think there has been a miscommunication with my colleague. I cannot take you to the Frankfurt airport.”

“Miscommunication indeed.”

I felt very, very silly. Here I am, considered an expert in my field at frog Design - a company that hires only a small percentage of people it interviews. I’ve got a degree in computer science. I manage to be pretty bright and intelligent many days. Why didn’t I think about this more when the front desk was telling me I would have plenty of time? Although it took over an hour to get from Frankfurt into Herrenberg I assumed it was because I was switching trains and what-not. After all, this was their country…they probably knew something I didn’t. And she said I could trust her! Oh wells, that was lost in translation.

“So, is there a train I can take to Frankfurt?”

“Yes, you will need to take the S-Bahn to the main Stuttgart station and then take a high speed train to Frankfurt.”

Thud, thud, thud. My heart pounded. My stomach churned. It was now close to 9 am, there was no way I would make my flight. I had no cell phone. My luggage and “the bag” were stuffed into the tiny car next to me like a dead Shamu and its offspring…they were leering at me, taunting me: “Haha! Now you have to lug us around all of Stuttgart and Frankfurt! Maybe we’ll let you sleep on our dead, bloated carcasses in the airport tonight. If they let vagrants sleep in airports over here. You may be roughing it in the train station buddy!”

And then something unexpected happened. I smiled. And I laughed quietly to myself. I realized that I could react to this situation one of two ways: I could let it overwhelm me and send me off the deep end of panic and worry. Or I could appreciate just how comical it was and take it as an unexpected adventure. Let me tell you something, I have been working very hard for a few years now to change myself in this respect. It has been slow and laborious, mostly feeling like meaningless baby steps. But a doomsday perspective and a negative attitude towards situations can be changed if you keep at it. All that effort on my part must have paid off, because after that moment I didn’t waste a single moment worrying about things. It would all work out one way or another, and in the meantime I was still smack-dab in the middle of a new environment overflowing with things I had never experienced before. I was going to enjoy myself. And I did.

I found the train station. Buying a ticket from the automated kiosks is nigh impossible for a non-native. Even the president of technology at frog gave up trying to buy one when he was in Germany. But another English-speaking German came to my rescue and helped me out. Apparently when you buy a ticket you are actually buying a certain number of zones, an amount sufficient to get you to the specific stop you want. A four zone ticket from the Stuttgart airport to the main station, which makes about 13 stops along the way, costs about 5 Euros.

Once at the main station I discovered that because the high speed train ticket I already purchased (but had missed) was a “normal” fare I could use it on any ICE train. So I caught the next ICE into the Frankfurt airport. Nice! I even figured out how to tell which seats were reserved and which weren’t on the train - FYI, they have little L.E.D. readouts above the seats; if a seat is reserved it will show the cities it is reserved for, if not reserved it will be blank…an that means first-come, first-serve. Although you have to pay attention because an unreserved seat might become reserved from one stop to the next. I happily listened to my iPod and watched the country side slide past me at over 250 kilometers per hour (that’s over 150 miles per hour to us Yanks) and arrived at the Frankfurt airport around 11:45.

The American Airlines check-in was deserted. Of course it was, the flight had left over an hour ago. But I finally tracked down a woman dressed in an AA uniform behind a counter way off in the corner.

“Hi. I missed my flight to Dallas, TX. Can you help me get back to America?”

“Which flight?”

“The flight into Dallas, TX that left at 10:35.”

“That flight was delayed due to snow in Dallas. It still has not taken off yet. But we have already shut down the check-in station, I don’t have a way to get your luggage on the flight.”

I just stared at her blankly. I wasn’t yet sure if it was safe for me to believe what I was being told.

“Hang on. Let me see what I can do.” She got on the phone and at the same time began typing furiously on the computer. She was speaking in German…was she typing in German too? A few minutes later the printer spat out baggage tags.

“Ok, you are all set. Just leave your luggage with me.”

Even though, one hour later, I was in the middle row of seats on the plane, and also in the center seat of that row with two people to either side of me, and I didn’t get a single arm rest the entire flight home…all butt-numbing, mind-numbing ten and a half hours of it…I didn’t care.

Serendipity.