We wished we had one more day!!!
After a leisurely stroll down the main drag of Sindlinger, our Frankfurt airport suburb, we paused in a small square opposite the front of the Hotel Post and browsed the posters taped on what is a monster concrete cylinder. They are common in Germany or Europe. Whenever there is an event, colorful posters appear everywhere there is an empty wall. To reduce clutter and provide a place to hang the information, the powers that be built public display forums, but not always out of concrete.
Eyeing a sunny yellow poster curled around the grey concrete announcing a concert, I was immediately sad that we were leaving the next day, Monday, but remarked to Robert that the printer had put the wrong date on the poster. Today was Sunday, September 30th not the 29th, as the poster said. Because tomorrow we leave to go home and that is the 1st, my ticket says so. Oh noooo! Our tickets must be wrong or this poster is wrong. Call Delta and verify the reservations. I think we are suppose to do that any way and it will all be OK! But I told Tom to meet us at the Jackson Airport on Monday the 1st. Oh dear! Noowww what!! No internet, no e-mail. We made a mad dash for the telephone at the hotel and found the Delta number in Germany is very expensive, says the lady at the hotel desk. Ok!!! Think!!! Let's take the hotel shuttle to the airport, here it sits, and we can fix it and be back in the sunshine long before happy hour on the terrace of the Hotel Post Restaurant.
Just remember said the hotel lady, "We will not send a shuttle to bring just you back to the hotel." "Well, we will just take our chances," we quipped, as we stuffed ourselves in the shuttle with eight other people and were deposited outside the Frankfurt Airport departing terminal 10 minutes later. Now to the Delta desk, I thought. We are in the departure terminal, but the terminals are not all in the same building?? No! You need to catch the shuttle bus that runs between Terminal 1 and Terminal 2, number 1 being the arrival terminal and also the location of the main desk for Delta. Out to the front curb we go and board the bus with Terminal 1 on the destination board. For those passengers who have a small problem even if your are departing you need to go to the arrival terminal to find a fix-it desk. Delta here we come right in the middle of the ground floor of the arrival terminal. Picking a sympathetic face, "Sir, I think our tickets are wrong," I pleaded, "we are suppose to leave tomorrow and the ticket says on the first and that is Monday, tomorrow." " Madam your ticket is correct and you are booked on the first but it just happens to be on Tuesday and you are going to Huntsville, Alabama, correct?" our calm little attendant explained. " WHAT! Of course I am not going to Alabama, I am going to Mississippi," I exploded. "Okey dokey," he smiled, "we can fix that!"
Well here we are now all checked in and surely there has to be a way to e-mail Tom to pick us up at the airport on Tuesday the 1st. Ah!!! Samsung free internet on the promenade level above the Delta desk. Only there seems to be 200 kids waiting in line to go online and they seem to have a lot more computer savvy than I. It just takes a few minutes they say, but why has this computer got funny controls; I just want a mouse, not a rolling ball. Ah! Hotmail at last, but what, I cannot send mail because my box is full and my account has been suspended. Wonderful!!! Well maybe I can empty the box and I can send mail"? Hello Tom, we are arriving on Tuesday, October the 1st." How many junk mails do I have . . . 300???? Drained from computer frustration we slog our way back to outside curb for the waiting shuttle. Amazingly there are new customers for the Hotel Post waiting and we get a free ride home.
Alas in Sindlinger, the sun still shines and the local brewmeister and his pub do call us. A German version of a pizza place across the street from the Hotel Post beconed us and we gladly slid our rushed bodies into a small table in earshot of the rowdy group clustered around the bar. Everyone seemed in a jolly mood as the barkeep rushed up to us and said only 10 minutes. We sighed and said sure that was ok we could wait. He hurriedly brought our drinks and said, "Please pay we close for the afternoon in 10 minutes, drink!." We drank and drank and were pushed out the door with the noisy group from the bar.
Oh well, how about a stroll down the east lane of this Sunday quiet village. Closed department stores, closed everything except the terrace at the Hotel Post. I plunked myself down in a comfortable wrought iron chair in the shade of the elms trees, gathered my pen and journal and begin to scribble, because no one is going to believe all this, but we still have one more day to see Frankfurt.