Wednesday, January 10th, 2001
San Francisco International

Thanks to SuperShuttle I really got to the airport on time. Pickup time for international flights: 3 hours prior to departure. And this time I didn't cheat since I actually had to get here early to try and have my seat changed from center to window. Quite an important task considering I am going to be stuck in that seat for 11 hours non-stop. But even 2 full hours before departure I can only get an aisle seat. It's the last one - the friendly lady with the French accent says. Sigh. No leaning my tired head against the window but free bathroom access. Oh well. I guess I should consider myself lucky. Then she passes me a $10 food voucher: Today's flight will depart 2 hours late. Oh boy. This is going to be a loooong trip.

Plenty of time to check out SFO's new international terminal. Everything is new, shiny and clean. No carpet. No McDonald's, no PizzaHut no Burger King - not even a Starbuck's. An Esprit store next to the SF MOMA bookstore. Lots of beautiful foreign things on display. Bizzare looking wooden warrior sculptures from Papua New Guinea and a collection of beautiful Japanese umbrellas. It's a whole different world. I follow a sign for Ebisu and decide to spend my $10 on some Nigiri and Sapporo. Half way through the meal I realize I should have gotten more beer and less sushi. Not because it's bad but because I have so much more time to kill. Sigh.

On the plane I can't help but get mad at the girl next to me. She falls asleep sitting up straight. Her posture seems so steady it looks like she could sleep STANDING in the aisle. What did she need the window seat for? Sigh. Trying to come up with an OK sleeping position for myself I give up after both my arms and feet have fallen asleep. My knees hurt and my back still hasn't recovered from the last trip. I am now too old for coach class.

About 15 hours later I get to Paris. Trying to find check-in counter A11 I find myself helplessly staring at a sign with a left pointing arrow and the numbers A1-8. On the right it says "A14-20" with a right pointing arrow. I had 4 years of French in school but I don't recall any irregularities in their way of counting other than that they insist on saying 4 x 20 instead of the number 80. I decide to walk towards the higher numbers to try and find somebody who can tell me where 9 -13 dissappeared to. Looking back over my shoulder I spot a huge arrow pointing straight from BEHIND the sign to check-in counters A11-13. Sigh. I really have little patience for this.

In the downstairs waiting area people smoke in designated areas. My French is good enough to catch that the flight to Düsseldorf is again delayed. I am so sleep-deprived I think I am going to pass out and die right here in the non-smoking section. 20 minutes later there is an announcement that the flight is cancelled due to a technical problem. The travel gods just aren't with me this time. The next flight is only another 20 minutes late but at least I'm finally on a plane to Düsseldorf. I'm so relieved once I'm in a cab. German cabs are ivory-colored Mercedes' - this one has black leather seats and GPS. More than 20 hours total travel time. I believe you can make it to Sydney in 24.

German for the day: "Das wäre uns mit der Lufthansa nicht passiert." (This wouldn't have happened on Lufthansa.)