(It has come as expected. I'm sitting in a worn hotel room in Palm Springs at the edge of the tub and start writing. It's 2.30 clock and the night is over now for 30 minutes. In other words, after four hours of sleep. A drunken American wanted to briefly communicate something probably very important just outside our door and that's enough for me then to end the night. I know when I am awake, I have a problem falling asleep again, and this knowledge keeps me awake reliably.)
Enough time to look back. To a stressful cab ride in Vienna, as the booked taxi did not come. Then, as expected, no neighboring seats on our flight to Toronto. So I sit alone for 8 hours 45 minutes on the way to Toronto. No, not really alone, but next to an Indian family with a constantly moving and anti-authoritarian trained two year old boy. My sense perception is not only based on visual and audible stimuli from the apparently unreasonable restriction of his personality, it then is joined by olfactory perception. Exhausted from crying louder, accompanied by coughing because of the resulting lack of air, he pukes the admittedly not very easily digestible food on the floor next to me. Little India as an exotic addition to a trip to another continent.
Three exhausted people, because I must add his mother, land in Toronto. 8 pm CET and I'm awake for 17 hours. No time for sleeping, for now we will change planes. Appropriately, baggage may not automatically be checked on the long journey to the U.S. There is obviously not enough confidence in the effeminate Europeans and so you have to pick up the luggage to make it two hundred yards later to put it on the next belt. But we have almost three hours time left.
We start queuing at Air Canada, because due to some unknown reasons they issued only three instead of four boarding passes in Vienna. They would, however, have traded a widespread phenomenon, as a dozen passengers in front of me and almost as many behind me face two very relaxed persons from Air Canada. Half an hour later and as it turned out later, now with two boarding passes for me and none for my wife, we start looking for our luggage. Three of the four pieces of luggage actually made it onto the conveyor belt, but my bag is still missing only an hour after landing. Why Canada is considered a successful industrial country, is not completely accessible to me in these minutes. But the restrooms are stylish.
Now it is time for U.S. Immigration, which is already done in Toronto. The pace of advance is hardly measurable, and the line is some 30 meters long. As it measures only about 20 meters, we look at our boarding passes - just 45 minutes left! That is reason enough for an extra helping of nervousness and a short detour to the front of the line. Or at the crease, as it turns out, followed by another 20 to 30 meters. Yes, panic.
The Lady from the security service looks reasonably accessible, and I describe my problem. After she checked the boarding passes, she shows understanding, and we approach the front of the line, which then divides into nine heads in form of U.S. counter clerks (a modern version of Greek tragedy?). Apparently our idea finds new followers, as we often hear desperate words as "15 Minutes to Take Off" and the like.
We soon face Mr. Sanchez on the diplomatic counter for those in a hurry. He asks after a short review of the documents, however, with increasing irritation, why we would bother him here. Well, the lady over there showed some understanding, because our plane takes off in 25 minutes. Misunderstanding, says Mr. Sanchez, looking at the boarding card - in 25 minutes boarding begins, because the quoted time is of course not the departure time.
I just test the nature of the ground if I can sink into, but Mr. Sanchez helps us at least with the atonement by taking a lot of extra time. Please, again these four fingers on the scanning device. And now again the thumb. What is the relationship between these four people with the same family name? Do we maybe look like four brothers? Mia, what is your date of birth and other important issues that are apparently of fundamental importance to the internal security of the United States.
Then he looks at our boarding passes again. According to these passengers are the daughters Lisa and Mia and twice René. This is too much for Mr. Sanchez and he disappears for five minutes. Of course it feels like thirty minutes. He then returns but fortunately not with two hefty colleagues from the other department, but with a boarding pass for my wife. Thank you very much indeed, Mr. Sanchez.
Thus we reach the gate just before boarding, only to hear that the plane is late because a large group of Spaniards obviously managed US Immigration not as elegant as we did. And to learn that Air Canada pilots on the flight to the U.S. are obviously used to distress and willing to postpone the flight by more than 30 minutes behind.
Then again five hours in the airplane seat, where "Clash of the Titans" is of little help against my increasing fatigue. Who has held the view of Mr. Sanchez, for those the Medusa elicits only a disparaging smile. Short run, the adrenaline level rises again, as we see the prices of the only food available in the menu card. $ 10 for a sandwich and two chocolate cookies. I hope no one gets the idea that Austrian Airlines should be restructuring in this way.
A light emerging from the dawn of fatigue is caused by view from the airplane window on LA in the evening sun: The largest village in the world, which even from 10 km altitude stretches almost from horizon to horizon, and somewhere in the middle of it 20 or 30 skyscraper buildings called Downtown. We have arrived.
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