We’ve had so many ‘good stories’ in the past five months - the  sort of frustrating, fearsome or foolish situations that frazzle the nerves at the time but which we insist we’ll laugh at later.  We’ve really had enough of them for this tour and didn’t need another; but here we are with one more for the road. 

Really, the Rome Airport Hilton’s only reason for existence must be to service clients with early morning departures and late evening arrivals.  No one would opt to stay here otherwise, surely.  So you think they’d be more up to speed on advising their guests about how to get to the airport.

At three AM we got our wake up call from the hotel, and the alarms on both of our iPads went off simultaneously.  At about 3:15 we checked out from the hotel and began that 300 yard walk to Terminal 3, our bikes and baggage in tow.  Almost an hour later we finally arrived at our check in desk.  50 minutes to walk 300 yards!  It’s a good thing that we planned to arrive early, but where did all that time go?

First, it didn’t help that the ‘moving sidewalk’ apparently doesn’t move this early in the morning.  No big deal, but it did mean that the short walk became a little longer than we expected.  The main thing though was that the final hundred yards are a long elevated corridor crossing the road below, at the end of which we found a locked door to the terminal and a notice saying that if you arrive before 5AM go downstairs and enter through Door Number 3.  It does seem like the hotel might have been aware of this and tipped us off so we wouldn’t walk down to the end of this corridor only to have to turn around.

For that matter, it would have been helpful to have that closure notice placed at the beginning of the corridor to ward you off from pointlessly walking down its full length with your luggage and back again.

And it would have especially been helpful if the hotel had given us instructions for how to get downstairs and to Door Number 3, or if the note on the locked terminal door had a map.  Because it’s not at all obvious how you get down to the lower level.  It must have taken about a half hour, really.  Along the way we went out to the end of a different corridor to Terminal 1, only to find that door also locked at this hour; looked around in vain for awhile to find a staircase; collected two other groups of stressed travelers trying to make early flights who couldn’t find the stairs either; and collectively finally found them, walked down through the parking garage, found a way to get across the road below, and finally made it to Door Number 3 and eventually our check-in counter.

By the time we finally reached our counter, everyone else had too.   A long, excruciatingly slowly advancing line preceded us.  For a long time we hardly saw any movement at all and were starting to despair of making our flight.  Finally it started to move though when three other windows opened up.  It’s after five when we walk up to the counter.  Still time, assuming the security line doesn’t stall us too long.

And to back up for a few important omitted details.  First, to fly to America now, you have to have a negative Covid test taken within three days of boarding.  We had this, after being tested at a lab in Viterbo on Friday.   Without it, we wouldn’t be boarding today.  Ahead of us was at the counter an anguished man argued fruitlessly with the agent who persisted in refusing to allow him to check in because he either hadn’t been tested or had forgotten his documentation.

Second, we’re flying KLM/Delta.  They emailed us a link for early check-in yesterday, but it doesn’t work.  Rachael made several attempts to check us in and pay for our baggage, but without success.  This is significant, because it means that we’re starting from scratch with check-in procedures this morning.  

And third, in a weird coincidence we’re flying on the very first day that the US is finally admitting people from Europe to enter the country again.  This is significant because it means that the airport is congested, flights are fully booked with people who can finally reunite with friends and family after almost two years, and lines are long.

At the conclusion of check-in our agent directs us upstairs to the flight ticketing desk, which is the place to go to pay our luggage fees.  When we get there there’s only one agent on duty, servicing a customer who’s trying to figure out where to fly to.  Ten minutes later they’re still talking through options when finally a second agent arrives, takes our money, gives us a receipt that Rachael stuffs somewhere, and we rush off to the security line.  

Remarkably, the security line itself is very efficient and fast-moving.  We quick-walk to our gate and when we arrive boarding is already well under way.  And there’s one last-minute scare when we’re required to show our receipt for our baggage payment and we can’t recall where we stuffed it in our rush to head off to security.  Finally we find it and our passports are cleared for boarding.  We make the flight with perhaps five minutes to spare.  We’re the last passengers to board, if I’m remembering correctly.  

While we’re waiting for departure Rachael asks me if this mess with paying for baggage doesn’t feel familiar.  Didn’t this happen once before?  I agree, but can’t remember where or when.  Which says something about how old and forgetful we’re getting, and how valuable it is to us to have kept such a complete journal of our lives for the last four years.  Because yes, this did happen before: just last year, when we were flying home from Bologna!  Almost an identical scenario - same airline, same failure to be able to check in early, same interminable delay at the ticket counter to pay for our baggage, and another flight where we arrive at the gate just in time and are the last to board.  Really, I could have just cut and pasted from the earlier entry, changed the name of the airport, and saved some time.

After all that, all three flights are routine and uneventful.  We have plenty of time in both Amsterdam and Seattle to make our connecting flights, and in Seattle have a very interesting conversation with Sarah and Chris, a couple returning to Portland from Porto, Portugal where they’ve been for the last 20 months after being unable to return home until just today.  We find that we have plenty to talk about because they’re leading lives similar to ours.  They too sold their home, downsized to what they could fit into a small storage unit, and hit the road with their backpacks.  Their plan after returning home is to explore getting a long-stay visa and returning to Portugal next spring.  We’re hoping to meet up with them again while we’re in town here and continue our conversation. 

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So, we’re home.  And it really does feel like home, because we’re staying at the same condo unit in the Pearl District that we stayed in just last spring.  We know the layout and the routine, and it’s nice to see our host BettyLou’s familiar face waiting for us on the sidewalk when our taxi pulls up at about 5PM.

There’s just enough time left in the day and gas in the tanks for our top priority tasks.  Rachael walks two blocks over to Safeway to provision us for our stay, and I walk the two blocks over to my sister Elizabeth’s condo to pick up the mail and the Raven.  I’m just alert enough to be able to drive it back to our condo and park it without hitting anyone or scraping the post next to our narrow parking spot.  After almost half a year, it feels like I need to learn how to drive all over again.

Five minutes after I get back the phone rings.  It’s Rachael, calling from the Safeway and sounding stressed and requesting my escort services.  The sidewalk outside the store is crowded with the usual assortment of street characters, and she doesn’t feel comfortable walking back through them in the dark lugging two bags of groceries and looking like a free meal.  

Home!

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Bob KoreisI was wondering when this was taken the noticed the date. Certainly not like that the last few days. Even the frogs have had enough rain.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Bob KoreisOr it’s raining frogs. It’s the same down here. There’s flooding in the streets. Often we bring the good weather home with us, but not this time. At least I’m still so jet lagged that I’m not missing out on much anyway.
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3 years ago

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