whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger

July 10, 2010
Haha…what an incredible day (in the worst way possible). I’m just happy that I am laughing now, instead of crying. Currently, I am sitting in a Presbryan waiting for my overnight train ride to Skellefteå. Yes, that’s right, an overnight train. I was supposed to be home by noon today, but now it’s 8pm and I’m still 11 hours away. I knew the bad feelings I was having on Thursday were a bad sign!

The fiasco began at 3:45 in the morning in St. Petersburg when my taxi driver (arranged by the orchestra staff) didn’t know which airport to take me to, and spoke a very, very small amount of English. All I knew was my ticket confirmation number and that I was supposed fly to Moscow, then Stockholm. We “discussed” this for about 10 minutes…meaning I tried to explain my situation and he spoke in Russian. Eventually he just said “ok, ok”, and I held my backpack tightly on my lap, praying that I was heading the right direction.

We arrived at the airport, and the driver motioned for me to stay in the car. I didn’t understand him at first, and started to gather my things, but he finally found the word and said “wait”. I sat in the car, clutching my backpack even tighter, while the driver went into the airport. Looking back on it...his kind and helpful efforts would be the last that I would see for the next 12 hours.

He returned to the cab and wrote the numbers 8 and 9 on a paper trying to tell me that these were the two check-in lines I could use. Then he pointed at a door to enter the airport. I graciously and whole-heartedly thanked him for his assistance. I grabbed my luggage and began walking towards the airport. I soon heard a hook and looked back at the taxi driver. He was waving his arms to the right…I was going in the wrong section of the terminal! I turned, found the correct door, and waved to him again. I really wish I could send him a thank you card.

The airport was small and dirty. I checked in and the woman said that I would need to reclaim my bags in Moscow before checking into my next flight. I only had a 50 minute lay-over, so I was already getting nervous. Then, to get to my gate I had to venture through a long dark passage that went under the runway. The escalators and “people movers” were turned off and the hallway looked as if it was abandoned years ago…very creepy, so I made sure to walk as fast as possible! The passageway ended at a small, glass, circular building in the middle of the tarmac. There were about 500 bright blue, metal seats with the numbers 1-6 posted above the surrounding doors. I situated myself in a seat with my luggage between my legs, backpack in my lap, and cymbal case next to me with the strap around my wrist. It was about 5am, and my flight was at 6:15am. I fought my drooping eyelids to the best of my ability.

The flight to Moscow was about 1.5 hours. I wanted to sleep so badly, but my body felt sick and overly exhausted. I didn’t drink at the farewell party because of this flight, but I mine as well have chugged 10 beers! I felt horrible!

When we landed in Moscow I did my best to fight the crowd to collect my bags quickly. But, that never does any good, and I still had to wait forever for the bags to arrive on the belt. I piled everything onto a cart, and went towards a sign that said “International Transfers”. I asked the man guarding the hallway if it was the correct direction. He didn’t speak English and had to find someone else to help me. This man directed me upstairs. I followed the instructions and stared at the departure board.

No Stockholm?

I went to the information desk to ask about my dilemma, she insincerely looked up my flight, and said that I had to go to Terminal F. “Follow the signs. 20 minute walk” she instructed me. I had about 40 minutes to make it. So, I ran, walked hastily, and then ran again. Pushing 3 weeks of clothes, my cymbals/sticks/mallets/tambourine/etc, plus full backpack (computer) was not enjoyable. I made it to the right terminal and frantically scanned the departure board once again.

No Stockholm.

What?! I found a nearby information desk. She said that I needed to go to check-in desks 13-20 that now read “New York”. 25 minutes to make it. I put all my luggage through the scanners (weird) and approached desk 18. I gave presented my passport and the woman gave me a curious look. “Gate closed” she coldly remarked. I explained my situation, and that my tardiness wasn’t my fault. I still had time; I could rush through security and make it. Right? Wrong. The woman spoke to the neighboring employee for a minute before turning to me to say that check-in closes for each flight 40 minutes before takeoff and that I wasn’t allowed to pass. Seriously!? I couldn’t believe what was happening. I gave one last final plea as she pointed behind me and said “Exit”. I couldn’t stop the tears from consuming my face.

My emotions overtook me as I tried to figure out what to do. I went back to the information desk to ask about getting a new flight to Stockholm. She said she couldn’t help me. I had to talk to a SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) representative. I tried to find their office, which was at the very end of the terminal. It was closed until 3pm. It was around 8am. Am I supposed to just sit here all afternoon?! I returned to the information desk and asked her to look up any flights to the Sweden/Norway/Denmark region. She said that there was another flight to Stockholm at 5:20pm. I had to get on that flight!

I approached numerous other ticket windows to ask for help, but I either got a cold shoulder, an angry “No English” reply, or a “go to SAS counter” explanation. Since my phone wasn’t working (I tried numerous times to call the orchestra staff, but it wouldn’t connect), I got out my laptop, and searched for some wireless internet.

I eventually found a corner in the terminal with an outlet and a weak, but free, wireless internet signal. I emailed the orchestra staff, Arvid, and my parents (I knew they couldn’t do anything, but I figured they would want to know what was happening…just incase all of my stuff got stolen and I was abducted by some crazy mafia guy). I also looked up the Stockholm flight on the internet and suggested that the orchestra staff book the flight for me. I figured that they were all still partying, or sleeping off the partying, so I rested my head on my bags, making sure everything valuable was attached to me, to try and get an hour or so of rest, or at least an hour or so of no tears.

I woke up and made another trip around the terminal to see if I could think of another idea out of the mess. I hadn’t gotten any replies from my mails, so I sat down at a T.G.I.Fridays (just to feel like home) to force down some food. I found myself getting emotional once again…no one turned a head or blinked an eye. Feeling so helpless was awful!

I barely ate a thing, but decided to make it back to “my corner” with the free Wi-Fi to check my email. I heard from Arvid, and we talked on Skype. I got really upset, and I know he was as well. Then, I had a response in my inbox from Alexa. She sincerely apologized, and said that the flight she found online did leave at 5:20pm, but was controlled by Aeroflot. She also said that she couldn’t make the booking online because they had a 24 hour rule for internet services. I had already asked the workers at the Aeroflot desk for assistance, but they couldn’t understand me and refused. I waited in line again praying for another result.

This time the woman spoke English. For the millionth time I asked for a ticket to Stockholm. She asked me to speak very, very slowly, and eventually booked it, but said it was very expensive. I didn’t care; I knew that the orchestra had to pay me back for the cost. I handed her my card.

It didn’t work!

What?! I had just paid for my lunch with the card an hour before! This is insane! I just wanted to get out of there so badly. I gave her another card (my dad’s emergency card…I’m pretty sure this was an emergency). She said it was declined as well. This is impossible! I asked her if she could take Alexa’s card number if I came back with it. No. Can Alexa call you? No. The woman said that Alexa could book it online. NO, LADY! She can’t. I’ve been over this. The worker said that Alexa could access the booking with a specific code and then rudely shooed me away. I was beyond frustrated!!!

Back to my corner I went. I Skype messaged Alexa explaining the situation. She tried to access the booking, but we both were seriously confused and the website was no help. I returned to the ticket window, and the lady working had disappeared. She was the only one on staff that spoke English. Fabulous.

I suddenly saw the listing of the company’s help line and suggested that Alexa call it for some answers. About 15 minutes later I got a message from Alexa:

“I have to go to the Aeroflot office in St Petersburg to pay for this ticket in person. Just trying to locate it! Ah, it’s not far from here. Charge your computer, and I will let you know as soon as I have made the payment! Should be about half an hour or an hour from now. We will do it somehow! But I can’t be online there, probably, so wait for an update from us.
Hang in there. Help is on the way.
Best, Alexa”

Ok, so now I just needed to sit tight. It was about 12pm. I Skyped with Arvid and tried to keep myself calm. I just had to have to have faith that it would work out! However, as time passed I started to get panicky once again. At around 2:30pm I was officially nervous once again. Crazy thoughts were going through my head (maybe Alexa was in an accident?!) and I tried to form new solutions. Find another flight? Go to Germany? Finland? Somewhere that’s NOT Russia? Maybe another airline would take my credit card.

Suddenly, I heard an announcement stating that passengers on the Stockholm flight should begin checking in. Oh no, that's me! For some reason I picked up my phone (I hadn’t tried using it since the morning), and scrolled for Alexa’s number. Surprisingly, the automatic Swedish woman’s voice did not pick up and instead it began to ring!!! I couldn’t believe it. Hearing Alexa’s voice was surreal! She quickly exclaimed that they had just made it through the line, to the desk, and swiped the credit card. My ticket was confirmed! I proceeded straight for the check-in desks without looking back.

I had to wait in 4 long lines before sitting at my gate; one to scan all of my luggage, one to check in, one for passport control, and one for normal security. What. A. Pain. I was emotionally and physically exhausted, sweaty from the lack of air in the building, frustrated with the environment, but so happy to be on the other side of security. I have never been so happy to see a Swedish flight attendant as I was stepping onto that SAS flight. Tears of happiness almost exploded onto my face, and I’m sure the woman thought I was insane. I took my seat in business class, and a sense of calm finally came over me.

The 2.5 hour flight was easy and cozy (three business class seats to myself and a nice meal) and I was extremely happy to step foot on Swedish soul. However, I still needed to figure out how to get to Arvid in Skellefteå. I had a few options:

1. stay the night in Stockholm, take a 12:20pm flight to the north the next day (Sunday)

2. stay in Stockholm until Monday night. Arvid and I were flying home to Ohio on Tuesday morning.

3. take a 10 hour overnight train to the north. Arrive at 7am.

I decided that I wanted to go to Skellefteå before going home to Ohio because I needed to wash clothes, repack, and drop off all of the percussion equipment. I tried to get a bed at an airport hotel, but they were fully booked. I decided that the train would be the best since it would at least keep me moving, and put me in the north earlier than the flight.

So, now I’m just sitting in Uppsala waiting for the train to depart. I’ve never taken a train anywhere, so let’s just call this entire day a new adventure. I’m glad that the rough part is behind me, and just can’t wait to be with Arvid, and in a few days at home in America.

I don't think I'll be heading back to Russia anytime in the near future.