It’s three o’clock and all’s well…


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Europe » Poland » Pomerania » Sopot
June 25th 2006
Published: September 2nd 2006
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Lindsay came and made sure I was awake at three, bright eyed and bushy-tailed. I mumbled I’d meet her in the lobby in 30 minutes, and I managed to do it too! We bid her father goodbye, and with much thanks, we departed by cab to Gdansk Airport.
Traveler’s note: Wizzair is nice and all, but they have a real issue on landings. Don’t get me wrong, they stick them, but maybe a little less gravity, little more flaps, that’s all I’m saying.
So after a rather hard landing in Luton, and extricating the seat cushion from my dupa, we collect our luggage and head to the train to Gatwick and a 5 hour layover made longer by a three hour delay. From the outset we knew we’d be traveling for about 24 hours, now 27. With our bags rechecked, we made the best of the situation by eating, shopping, and ultimately napping on the most uncomfortable chairs ever conceived. It’s as though they don’t want weary travelers sleeping at the gate!
Our flight finally took off. Lindsay slept through the bulk of it again. Her ability to sleep on a plane is envious. She can be out cold before boarding is complete. Just amazing! I was awake for nearly the whole time again.
We landed in Atlanta, grabbed our bags yet again, and this time managed to skip customs because though we were three hours late, our connection had been delayed for other reasons. We hauled ass through the terminal, dropped our luggage at the bag check and ran, me in socked feet (no time to put the boots back on now), to the gate. We got there with time to spare, but as we spent a few minutes waiting it dawned on me that most of this plane was going to be comprised of a church group returning from a mission trip.
Here’s how deeply disturbed I am; I considered whether or not to get on the place because of the News. I could hear the anchorman say, “A plane en route from Atlanta to Tallahassee, crashed tonight. On board was a group of kids returning from a mission trip in southern Ecuador.” Not to mention, when I show up to the Pearly Gates, and St. Peter is standing there with his huge book, these are not the people I want to be standing next to!
“Cindy, good life, good works, mission trip? You’re in.”
“Steven, good life, good works, mission trip? You’re in.”
“Jeremiah, you drank how much at the reception? You told a Polish woman she had a nice what? Hmmmm…”
Well, luckily my trusty traveling companion forced me on the plane and fifty minutes later we were on the ground in Tallahassee. Here’s the funny bit, we checked our bags in Gdansk, claimed them in Luton, carried them to Gatwick, rechecked them to Atlanta, claimed them there, and rechecked them. They didn’t make it to Tallahassee for another 24 hours. Actually Lindsay had hers the next morning, mine showed up much later that night.
Happy to be home again.

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