Today started bright and early. We had to leave the hotel by 0700 for the four-hour trip back to Paris so I could make my flight home. We allotted this extra time because of the horrendous traffic on the way out.
It was every bit of four hours, though the traffic had slow spots, no real backups, so I had about 3 hours to kill. Still, I’d rather cool my heels in the airport than stress on the road.
Actually, the biggest traffic jam was at the terminal. It’s an older airport, and it’s just not designed to handle the volume of ground traffic it receives. One problem is that there is only one area to pick up and drop off passengers. It’s a small pay lot that only lets in as many people as spaces, so cars stack up outside waiting for people to leave. Taxis and buses use a different level. We eventually got in, and I was left to my own devices at an airport whose signs, if any, were multi-lingual. You still had to have a vague idea of where you were going.
Oh, the place was packed. Did I mention it was 1100, on a Tuesday? In a normal airport, this time of day is a ghost town. Not CDG. Check in lines wrapped around and around. I was so happy that I did not have to check any luggage.
Since I was inside the Schengen Area (which is basically the EU), I didn’t need to go through passport control so that I could go straight to the gate area. Each gate area has its security checkpoint. Noting that I needed Gate 53, I followed the signs. First, went up an escalator to the other side of the concrete doughnut that is the terminal. Oh, this floor was even more packed, if possible. Then I spotted a sign for gates 50-63 that way. That way turned out to be the longest escalator/slideway I have ever seen. As you get on it, you descend about two floors, maybe three. Then it goes straight for 200-300m, hard to tell in that tunnel, and then back up several floors.
This deposited me at a security checkpoint. That looked closed—no one in sight. You can’t go left or right, only through the checkpoint. So I walk through the maze and get spotted by the young women who run it. They were there, just sitting, hanging out since they had no business until I showed up. They didn’t speak English, but what we were about was exactly the same as any other checkpoint, so it wasn’t a huge problem. One of them helped me with the bins because they want every electronic device in its own bin. I was carrying a laptop, an iPad, a Kindle, and my phone in addition to the backpack and the camera bag. So that was quite a production, and I appreciated that there was no line behind me.
Now to kill about two hours before we board the flight back to Keflavik and my connection to BWI. I have 1:35 between flights, but it’s a very small airport. Though I will be leaving the Schengen Area, I will have to get my passport stamped between flights. And the incoming flight was delayed 40 min, shaving my time to connect. Luckily, Keflavik is IcelandAir’s home base and only major airline so they know they have people coming that need to connect to Baltimore.
The 3.5 hour hop to Keflavik was on a 767 which is nice, it is wider with two aisles configured 2-3-2. I had 16B, an aisle right by the lav (meaning no one behind me), and far enough forward that I won’t have to wait forever to get off the plane to make my connection.
I was at that tail end of the loading since I couldn’t understand the PA system and wasn’t in position to read the sign. They load these big ones in stages and I should have boarded with the early group. By the time I understood what was going on, I had to join the queue for the back of the plane group.
When I got to my seat, the woman in the window wanted me to switch with her husband, who had 9B. Normally, I’d have considered that, but I was flustered by the boarding mishap and was happy I had room for my bag at my seat. Since boarding was wrapping up, moving me and my bag would have been a chore. And, knowing I had a tight connection at Keflavik, I was not about to put myself in a position where I would have to swim upstream to get my bag before I could deplane. So I pretended not to understand and just buckled in. She immediately faced the window and didn’t move the whole flight. Fine.
This was almost the exact same fire drill I had on the way out. What seemed like I would have time for a real bite to eat turned into a rush job. This time, I refused to rush, correctly guessing they would wait. So I got a soda, hit the bathroom, and was still not (quite) the last person to the gate.
The next drama was my seat. I always book the exit room. More legroom and the seat in front of you can not recline into your lap. Plus, IcelandAir reserves an overhead bin for those in the exit row so you don’t have to stress about finding a spot if you are as late as I was to board.
I also typically book the aisle given a chance. Jess prefers the window, so when traveling together, I usually get the middle. When I get to my row, the old couple there decided that ‘F’ was the window and wanted me there. I assured them ‘F’ was the aisle and that’s the seat I booked. They acted like they didn’t understand English, and the flight attendant who was usually stationed at the exit rows was off somewhere else. In the end, I just said Fuck It and took the window. It was a frosty trip for the next 6.5 hours.
IcelandAir doesn’t allow you to have your personal item in the seat during takeoff and landing. They want no obstructions on the exit row floor. Once airborne, you can retrieve your item, in my case, a carefully packed camera bag with an iPad, snacks, etc., tucked in around the camera. Being stuck in the window with the happy couple, I was stranded by the very…robust woman in the middle seat who took 5 minutes to get in or out of her seat. I was cranky, both legs with seating issues…
Traveling solo exposes you to this crap. I had forgotten, since I am usually flying with Jess or with coworkers.
On the positive side, I was able to catch a glimpse of Greenland again. Usually, it’s covered in clouds, or it’s dark since the outbound flight is a red-eye. The place is captivating to me. Just massive mountains and rivers of ice. Majestic and almost like another planet. I want to see the place up close one day…I am thinking of joining a photo tour, leaving Jess in Reykjavik while I do that. So has no interest in going somewhere that cold and where the guides are armed against polar bears.
Despite the delays in Iceland, we got into BWI only 20 minutes late and, miracle of miracles, they had more than two agents working passport control. So I was able to breeze through that and went around the baggage claim and out so fast the TSA agents stopped me to remind me about baggage claim since you can’t come back into this area. Apparently it’s not all that common for people arriving from Iceland to only have carry-on since even in July it’s brisk there.
Also my phone smoothly reconnected to Mint once I switched the eSIM back. Jess was standing by with a drink, a sandwich and my dog. Happiness.