Way back on August 15th we finished up that pre-trip to Lucca. As you heard, it was a great success and left us all looking forward to our eventual (now imminent) return. We left our VRBO apartment that morning with the plan of a train ride to Florence with a one hour layover to transfer to a train to Rome which would give us 4 hours to get to the airport in Rome and onto our California bound flight. Sounds easy...right?
The train ride to Florence left on time and was quite uneventful. We spent the time talking about our favorite parts of the trip, how we felt we were ready for this grand adventure, and enjoying the countryside. About 15 minute out from Florence however, the train stopped. And stopped. And stopped. Then a very nice Italian person announced something in Italian that I didn’t understand but took to mean “there’s a problem on the track, we’re delayed. Sorry about that.” As we waited longer and time passed, I began to watch the time and gradually saw the time of our connecting train to Rome approach and eventually pass, all the while us sitting helpless on the train. Eventually the cow moved off the tracks (I like to think that’s what it was though there is no evidence of bovine intervention) and we made our way to Florence a good hour and a half late.
Upon arrival, I got to learn how to take care of ticket exchanges in Italy, which was a hoot. After waiting in the wrong line for a few minutes, then taking a number for another line in which I was 30th in order, all the while watching possible other connections to Rome depart, I finally noticed a “pay 5 euros and skip the line” line. Here, with a wait of less than 30 seconds I was able to get new tickets to Rome on a train that left just over an hour after our original one putting us only a bit behind schedule, still plenty of time to make it to Rome and our flight…theoretically.
The trip to Rome felt very similar to the one to Florence. Very pleasant. Uneventful. Exciting to be on a bullet train that was doing better than 160 mph. And similarly to our first locomotion of the day, this one also had a late-in-the-ride, something-on-the-tracks stop that lasted. And lasted. And lasted. In the same manner, I watched the time pass, but this time not for a relatively easy to reschedule connecting train, but towards the “if we don’t make it, we won’t be back in California for an extra day or more” flight out of Rome. By the time the heard of goats (again, no proof) made their way to their new pasture and we pulled into Rome, we had just over an hour to get from the train station to the airport, check in to an international flight, get through security, and board. Doable, but tight…or was it?
As we ran through the station I pulled out my notes about our return flight, checked the airport (Ciampino), checked the airline (Lufthansa), checked the time (1:20), checked that we had all our stuff and 2 very anxious but extremely helpful and patient little girls. We got in the taxi line, got a ride very quickly and were pleased to notice that we had managed to choose the closer of the two major Roman airports. Huzzah! A break! Maybe we’d make it!
Now, you know when you watch a movie or the Amazing Race and it seems that people always get crazy taxi drivers? The kind that weave in and out of traffic like frogger, catch red lights REALLY late (or not at all), and think that generally traffic rules are really more guidelines? Yeah, we got that guy. Which I suppose was a blessing at this point because though we all sat in stunned, trying not to wet ourselves silence the whole ride, I think we may have made record time to the airport. If memory serves, we got there around 12:40. MAYBE enough time to catch our flight.
We run out of the cab, into the terminal and check the big board. “Let’s see…Frankfurt, where’s Frankfurt…hmmm…1:20 flights…no…nothing…Lufthansa? No…no Lufthansa…” Something was amiss. Our flight was not listed. Nor was any flight to Frnakfurt, or Germany for that matter, nor was there a flight on Lufthansa. I check all my notes, right day. Right time. Right airport. What’s going on? I go back to my original confirmation email. Right day. Right time….uh oh. Wrong airport. Somehow in my notes (which up to this point on the week long trip had been accurate and much easier to refer to than digging through various emails for various bits of information) I had put down Ciampino airport instead of DaVinci. Ugh!
With that, we knew we were sunk. By this point it’s approaching 1:00 and the airport is at least 15 minutes away. I pull out my phone and call my credit card company with whom I booked the flights to get recommendations on changes. As I’m working with them, Stacey suggests we get in a taxi right away because whatever flight we end up getting, it won’t be out “we only do regional service” CIA airport. We get in the taxi and I finish the conversation with the credit card company. The representative said at that point it would be better to let the airline deal with moving our tickets than them rebooking. Cheaper and more likely to be helpful. Fine. We enjoy the drive across town (really across the area outside of town to be accurate) knowing we likely will be here an extra night.
We arrive at DaVinci around 1:10. No rush because a) we’re not checked in, b) though our bags are travel sized, we have liquid and items that require checking and c) just to get through the airport to the gate before they close the doors at this point would be essentially impossible. I walk up to the Lufthansa ticket counter and tell the nice German lady the whole story and ask what we can do. She seems pretty sure as we were that our chances of catching our flight were essentially zero at this point and she begins looking for alternatives for us. As she’s searching, I mention to her, mostly in jest, that I noticed on our way in that our flight was delayed 15 minutes and that perhaps it may be delayed a bit more such that we could catch it. She laughed it off as I expected, but soon she started making comments about how there were no other flights that would get us out that day and how she didn’t want us to stay the night. She looked over the counter at our bags and asked if we were planning to check them. We told her we weeerrree…and that’s when she told us to dump all non-carry-on-approved items and run to the gate. She didn’t think we’d make it (neither did we) but she thought it was worth a try. With a couple taps on her computer, we had a piece of paper that to this day I don’t quite know what it said on it really and marching (sprinting) orders to get to the gate asap. So we did.
Lickety-split to and through security. Our magic paper and our pleading faces was apparently all the security people needed to let us cut. We again found ourselves in the Amazing Race moment that would come right before the commercial break: Will they make it?!?!?!?!?
We did. Not only did we make it, it turns out they hadn’t even opened the gate yet so nobody was aboard! Unreal. The girls stepped aside and caught their breath and I took my magic paper to the gate to officially get us checked in (remember we never went through check-in, the nice German lady just gave us a magic paper so we didn’t have seats yet). Apparently the man at the gate had been expecting us because he gave me a “you made it!” smile as I approached. He took our passports and began doing his thing…though as he was doing so, he was making faces of consternation and saying things in hushed tones to his partner in Italian. Seriously. All that and we won’t get seats? What a day.
Eventually the printer starts making printing sounds and the man seems to relax. Expecting the worst, he calls me over. “Well, I was able to get you checked in as usual for your connecting flight from Frankfurt to San Francisco. But,” great, here it comes…. “I had to put you in business class for this flight.” Oh that’s ok, we were expecting to miss it anyw….wait. Did he say business class?
“I’m sorry, did you say business class?”
“Yes! But only for this flight I’m afraid.” Needless to say it was at this point that decided that the almighty was taking a personal interest in us that day. There was no reason we should have even been close to making this flight and now we were doing in business class. Unbelievable.
In any case, the rest of the day was pretty much to plan. A bit of tight connection in Frankfurt, but nothing compared to the rest of the day. When we arrived at my parent’s house in Saratoga some 36 hours after getting on the train in Lucca, we all agreed that if we could make it through that day, we were pretty much prepared for whatever else this year has in store for us.
More catching up to come in the near future!
1 comment:
Great story, thabks for sharing. And I agree, the worst of travel helps you be prepared for anything. Especially for the kids to be part of that.
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