Volcanic ash revisited, Part 3-D

Continuation from Volcanic ash revisited, Part I and Part II)

Ok, it just seems like every movie with a third part makes it 3D, so I could resist. This is the third and final post on the trip, also called (in FRIENDS fashion) The One Where We Got Home.

So if you read the other parts, you know that we are "stuck" in Paris with no way to get home. Volcanic ash has been spewing from an Iceland volcano and all air travel is canceled. At one point during the weekend, we were actually stuck in a small town not knowing how we were going to get back even to Paris.

The fact is, we had planned to be in Ireland by Monday, and we had a flight scheduled from Cork to Atlanta on Wednesday. It was also suspended, but we hoped it might open up at some point. You cannot imagine the crazy thoughts that were going through our minds as we tried to find a creative way home. Here is just one example of the wild plans we were batting around: We would take a train to the coast of France, catch a ferry to England, take a train to Liverpool, and from there catch a ferry across to Dublin, where we could then take a train or rental car to Cork and fly home from there. Look at a map - that is c-r-a-z-y! But we were desperate.

When we finally resolved ourselves to the fact that such a nutty plan (dragging luggage around at that!) wouldn't work because of the ferry schedule, we settled into Paris, waiting for the ash to lift and flights to open up. I called my boss and he said, well, you can't help it so you night as well enjoy it. If you say so, I thought. What an awful fate, right?

By Monday there was speculation that air travel might begin again by Friday, so we did two things.

• First, we started making plans of what we might do while we were trapped. Maybe Versailles? Or a train to the south of France (trains inside countries were running)? Lots of bread, cheese, onion soup and creme brulee for sure. Yeah, we were getting used to the idea. Ummm, reluctantly. Yeah.
• Second, the leader of our travel team (I'll call him Bill, because that's his name) was calling Delta trying to set something up. He's a platinum Skymiles member, so he had a phone number where you actually didn't have to wait 45 minutes to get a real person on the phone. It turned out that they thought travel would resume by Friday. Bill got us booked on a Friday flight. Three more days in France first though. Awww.

So there we were Tuesday morning. Bill got up early to go to the airline office, planning to stand in line and get us confirmed seat assignments for our Friday flight. The rest of us? Well, we slept a little late and were sitting around eating a leisurely breakfast. and planning our day.

Then...

Phone rings. It's Bill. He asks, "How quickly can you pack? There's a small break in the cloud and Delta is letting one flight out today. I've got us on it, if you can get there on time."

Wow, talk about sudden change! We're all scrambling to our rooms and stuffing stuff in our bags as fast as we can. I promise, we were out of that hotel and in a cab within 10 minutes. Ten minutes! France is cool, especially with all the work done...but as Dorothy said, "There's no place like home."

So the cab arrives at the airport and drops us off on the other end of the terminal from our gate. We practically run what seems like 2 miles. We stand in extremely long lines, including a line passport control where it seemed they kept letting people from the other side break in front of us. We were not amused, because we were cutting it awfully close.  We end up at the only gate in sight that's operating - the airport is mostly closed but somehow Delta got this flight scheduled in a narrow time window. and then - finally - we are seated on the plane.

As we sat there, knowing we had made it, the pilot came on the intercom and announced that we would have to wait a few minutes. Why? Because he had file a flight plan! Apparently U.S. air traffic control didn't even know we were coming. That's how unusual it was that this flight was allowed to leave. Were we scared that it was a little early - that the cloud might still create safety concerns? Not really, we were just glad to be leaving.

So as the plane took off, the passengers all broke into cheering and applause. I've never seen anything like it. People like to travel, but they like to know they can get home.

 Looking back on the whole adventure, I'm grateful. It's the weird, the unusual, even the stressful moments in life that create memories. I've been to Europe several times,mostly for work. I'm there now, and will probably be back again. But out of all those trips, the one I'll remember the most is the one where a big cloud of ash settled over us. And I'll smile.

Volcanic ash revisited, Part II

(Continuation from Volcanic ash revisited, Part I)

So there we were a year ago with some time to kill in France. Not a bad situation, except for the reason – volcanic ash, air travel shut down, no way home.

So we were stuck, and our next meetings were scheduled for Monday. We decided that on Saturday we would take a day trip to Normandy. As Americans, we felt it would be shame to be so close to there and not visit. The Allied assault on the beach there was key in overcoming one of the most evil dictators in history, and so lives were lost there. My Uncle Ed was part of D-Day and was fortunate enough to make it home. So yeah, that was a good idea.

So here was the plan: Take a train to a little town called Caen. Rent a car there. Drive to the north beaches of France and end up at the American cemetery at Normandy. Spend some time there, drive back to Caen, and take the train “home” to Paris.

Most of the plan went extremely well. Most of it.

I’ve got to stop here and say that the time at Normandy was an amazingly moving experience. There aren’t many places in the world where the enormity of its significance just overwhelms you. I’ve been to a few. Red Square. The Dallas Book Repository. Tiananmen Square. Ground Zero for 9/11. But nowhere is the history more poignant than at Normandy.

Rows and rows of crosses where American troops are buried, all of whom died in one short period of time.

Beaches where you can just picture the fateful day when Hitler’s demise commenced.

 It was incredible. I will never forget it.

And then it was time to head back. Not a pretty sight.

The whole experience is a series of images now. Sort of a blur. First, we dropped off the rental car keys under a locked door, because the office had closed. Then we walked across to the train station, expecting to catch the last train back to Paris. Well, we saw a train scheduled on the board, but it never came. We waited...and waited...and waited. Finally we decided to ask someone, but we couldn't find anyone who could (or would, I suspect) speak English to the dumb Americans. Eventually we realized...

THE LAST TRAIN HAD LEFT AND WE WERE STUCK. (There was a strike, it turns out.) In the little town of Caen. 150 miles from Paris.

Well, we desperately tried to get a cab to take us to the airport, where surely we could get another rental car. Nope - since the airlines were shut down (remember the ash?), the rental car offices we closed. The volcanic ash strikes again.

Anyway, there were only two taxis in the whole dang town, and they were going back and forth picking up people from the line of probably 50 stranded train passengers.

What a mess. I remember walking across the street to a Chinese restaurant and getting something to eat. We might as well make the best of it, right? God would take care of us, and it would be a great story later. Travel is all about adventure, and boy were we having one!

It ended well. A resourceful member of our group (Thanks, Bill) found an American serviceman who had talked a cab driver into taking him to Paris. It was soooooooooo expensive that he was glad to share his cab and have us pay a share of the cost. So we jumped into a taxi at 11 pm, and arrived at our Paris hotel two hours later. A long night, but the stuff memories are made of. Looking back, it was fun. (Yeah, I know...I'm sick.)

Back in Paris. A good night's sleep. And then a few more meetings before dealing with the question again...when and how would be get home?

That's Part III, coming soon.

Volcanic ash revisited, Part I

As I sit on a plane somewhere over the north Atlantic Ocean, alot of thoughts a running through my head. I’m grateful for the opportunity to travel and work with people from all over the world. I’m looking forward to a weekend over there before we begin our long days of meetings. I’m REALLY grateful for an exit row seat with an empty seat next to me.

And I’m reminiscing. Reminiscing about volcanic ash.

Last year I was on this same business trip – overseas to meet with underwriters who provide international coverage for large catastrophes such as hurricanes. I will never forget that morning, the last day of meetings in London. We were on our way to the office when we heard the news. A volcano had erupted in Iceland and there was a large cloud of ash spreading over Europe. You remember that being on the news, right? It probably was just an interesting news story to you. To me, it was life.

Well, it wasn’t too long before we knew that our itinerary was completely blown out of the water. We would not be able to fly to our next meetings in Zurich. We were supposed to wrap up the tour after that with a meeting in Paris. Could we get there by train? Could we switch the order around? Would we be forced to settle for conference calls? But most of all, WHEN AND HOW WOULD WE GET HOME?

Yes, that was a real concern. All air travel in Europe was canceled, except (I think) some flights out of Madrid. Every day that we were there, it was getting worse. Nobody knew when it would be lifted.

Back home, family and friends were following the news closely. They heard stories of overbooked hotel rooms. They wondered whether I was constantly breathing in a bunch of junk that would clog up my lungs. They were worried, and I guess if I had been in their shoes I would have too. But it was a great example of how the press sensationalizes stuff to get viewers and readers. Once we got to Paris, our hotel manager assured us we would have our rooms as long as needed. Believe it or not, we could not actually see the ash – most of the time the skies were blue. Just walking around, it was hard to understand why we were stuck.

So it was time for the adventure to commence. Trains, planes, and automobiles. We had our conference call with the Zurich underwriters, giving up on getting there.  Then we got word that we had seats on the train to Paris (the one that goes under the English Channel – that’s pretty cool). Well, “seats” is not exactly right. As you might imagine, transportation was getting rather scarce as everyone was scrambling to find alternatives to air travel. But we got tickets, just not with seats. So we got on the train, and found ourselves standing in the compartment with our luggage. But we were grateful to be able to get the heck out of London.

So there we were on a Friday afternoon, with meetings scheduled for Monday. What to do Saturday? Oh. My. Goodness. That Saturday was one of the wildest things that has ever happened to me.

More on that next time.