My last morning in Strasbourg, I awake to a wet snowfall that gives the city a magical winter feel. The shuttle bus to the Frankfurt airport is scheduled for 9:15, and my gracious hosts not only drive me to the stop but wait until the bus arrives and I’m settled aboard.
There are a handful of other passengers on the bus, and the ride is uneventful. By the time we arrive to the Frankfurt Airport, the snowfall has melted into a light rain. I reverse the long trek back to the terminal, passing by long lines at the COVID testing center. I’m planning on getting re-tested back in Dublin later this week. With more than two hours until my flight, I have plenty of time to check my larger bag (which now carries two bottles of Alsatian wine gifted to me by my friend O). The airport seems fairly busy, most likely to it being a peak post-holiday Sunday travel day. Nevertheless, the line at the security checkpoint is short (albeit I use the one for business class), although it takes forever for the people in front of me to load their items into bins — in one station there’s an older man who apparently doesn’t understand that he has to remove liquids; in another, a mother and her school-age daughter have to wait for more bins to accommodate all their stuff. I breeze through when it’s my turn, although I am given a full body pat-down by a security officer after walking through the scanner and before being allowed to collect my belongings. The concourse is fairly full of passengers speaking various languages. Cafes and newsstand shops are open, although there are no sit down dining areas. Most of the seats around my gate are taken, with empty seats cordoned off in between sets of two for social distancing purposes. About 15 minutes before boarding is supposed to begin, a couple of lines spontaneously form without any announcement being made leading to two Lufthansa representatives standing in front of the gate. I vaguely remember this odd ritual from the last time I flew through the Frankfurt Airport… everyone queues up to show their identification documents, the Lufthansa representatives manually check our names off a hard copy list of passengers on their clipboards, and then we’re handed a small square of paper labeled “DOC-Check Service Card” that we are supposed to hand back when presenting our boarding passes. It seems like a very arcane, chaotic and redundant system… why not just check our IDs at the same time as our boarding passes, so we don’t have to stand in two lines?!
When it comes time to board, it’s the typical herd behaviour — people rush to be first, even for the relatively smaller business class boarding group, disregarding proper social distancing protocols. Also, after the boarding pass check there is a set of stairs leading down to the gateway to the plane — so people must lift and carry their bags instead of rolling them. Seriously?! Not that it’s a problem for me, but I’ve noticed multiple instances in European airports (including Dublin’s) where stairs make them much less accessible to physically-challenged passengers. It’s definitely something we take for granted in the U.S.! The plane is larger, a 3 seat + 3 seat configuration, with the middle seat left unoccupied (at least in business class). In my row, I’m seated at the window while a younger American woman (in her 30s?) is seated on the aisle. The flight seems to be mostly if not completely full. In business class, we’re served a light lunch consisting of a caprese salad (mozzarella, tomato and pesto), a bread roll, a small square of cake with some bits of citrus fruit, and a couple of Belgium chocolate pralines. I also partake of a couple small airplane-sized glasses of white wine.
The flight goes by quickly, compared to the bus ride and airport check-in process. It’s the first time coming “home” to Ireland, which is a new experience for me. The rest of the journey is fairly straightforward — I file off the plane with everyone else, clear passport control (including handing over my COVID passenger locator form as required by the Irish government), wait for my checked bag that shows up without incidence, then exit the terminal and catch a taxi into town (thankfully there was no queue). My driver is an older Irish man who doesn’t say much. Traffic is light so we make good time. The fare right to my door comes to €28, including some extra for tip.
Crow Street is empty although a security alarm / siren on a building across from mine is blaring — and it hasn’t stopped even hours later, apparently this is something that happens in Dublin. Other than this annoyance, everything seems as I left it. I had turned down the radiators before I left so the apartment is chilly. I unpack, text a few friends, and order some food delivery for dinner.
I also check my mailbox, which contains a postcard from my friend J who was back home in Texas over the holidays, and a plain unmarked official looking brown envelope — I’ve finally been assigned a PPS number!!! However, the enclosed letter states that it’s only been provisionally assigned, pending an in person interview, which who knows when that will happen given the new COVID lockdown… so this adventure is “to be continued.” A victory, nonetheless. It feels good to be home.
Until next time…
