The perfect storm - or what sucks about international travel

So I just spent an exciting 4 days at the global health mission conference in Kentucky where I got to meet and share ideas and projects for improving world health with over 3000 people from all over the globe. It was amazing. It's still sinking in. Lots more on that later...

But first I feel as if I must document my travel escapades over the past day (days? I think I'm well past 24 hours at this point). The events were a chain of unreal scenarios, one after another...a perfect storm. I kept waiting for a candid camera guy to pop out laughing. So the need to have this day in writing makes it actually real. All I can say is by God's grace, I am back in Norway having not plummeted to the earth in a fiery plane crash or been detained in some dark damp German prison cell or have been guilty of murdering one or more of the characters I have dealt with.

So here's the long version, read and enjoy. It's funny now that it's over.

My day started off normally packing my suitcases and heading to the Louisville airport. I pulled in to return my rental car where I was told that the car I had been driving all week was not registered to hertz. They couldn't find it in the system. "Where did you get?" "Ummm, here. You (being the exact same employee) gave me the key." Crisis averted, they found the car and I escaped my grand theft auto charge.

Then I headed through the security screening where they flagged my bag because they saw a large bottle of liquid in it. After a full bag search, they realized the offender was bags of Reese's pieces. Candy smuggling? Guilty.

Next, while boarding the plane the scanner beeped and spit me out a new boarding card. Why? "Oh, they renumbered the seats in this aircraft." I was told. From 19A to 4C. Hmmmm, seems like renumbering wouldn't really go that way but whatever. Except that seat 4C didn't even actually exist so I'm left standing in the isle. I got to sit next to the flight attendant in the little jump seat since the flight was fully booked. Super comfy, by the way, but it was only an hour flight so I smiled on.

Things seemed back on track in Chicago and we boarded and took off towards Frankfurt without incident. Until about 2 hours in, the captain came on and announced we had an auxiliary power failure that would force us to fly at a lower altitude and we couldn't safely cross the Atlanta. We were diverted back to Chicago. Seriously? So we turned around, dumped jet fuel for 10 minutes to lose enough weight to land (how good is that for the environment below us?), and safely landed back in Chicago. We were ushered to another plane and left again about an hour later. Of course, I had missed my connection out of Frankfurt and had to wake Micah up in the middle of night to tell him but we were assured that agents in Frankfurt would have everyone taken care of.

Well, the ticket I was given in Frankfurt was to wait 24 hours and take the same flight I missed tomorrow. Umm, no. After arguing and maybe some hysterical crying on my part, they put me on another airline to leave an hour later. Yay! Best outcome considering the situation.

Until I went through security, where they wanted to see not only my passport but my Norwegian visa. Apparently, that confused the guy or maybe he was just angry but he started asking why I had a visa, why was I in the states, why didn't I speak Norwegian. My answers, and honestly probably my unenthusiastic attitude at this point, did not appease him so he felt it necessary to call a supervisor who led me to a small cubicle and asked tons more irrelevant questions for about 30 minutes. Who is the king of Norway? How did you get a Norwegian drivers license? Does Norway allow duel citizenship and if so, have I applied? Are my children USA or Norwegian residents? Do I pay taxes in USA or Norway? What Norwegian political party do I belong to and have I contributed any money to their cause? Aaaaggghhh! Finally I think he just got tired of me not knowing the answers to most of the questions and he let me go. (The king is king Harold, by the way. Score 1 for me)
But by this time I had missed my flight so had to rebooked yet again.

So it's over, right? Almost but the best is last.

So I finally board the last plane, stuck in a middle seat of course between a sweet older lady who only speaks German and an uptight businessman. He was the guy who doesn't have to follow the rules, you know? No first class on this tiny flight? He was obviously put out. He hung his suit jacket over my seat and spread out as much as he could while I snuggled into the old German lady. He complained about having to turn off his laptop, raise his seat back, not getting a meal, you name it. Really, he huffed and puffed for the hour and a half. Finally, as we are about to land, he and the flight attendant have it out over having to turn off his computer. She takes it out of his hands and tells him he can have it back when we land (like she was speaking to a child). He then decides to get up to go to the bathroom. I mean, landing gear is out, flight attendants are buckled in themselves. She forcefully tells him he cannot go and must sit down. He proceeds-no joke-to defiantly pull down his suit pants and pee in the isle. Unbelievable. That led to several male passengers restraining him while we got to sit on the plane even longer waiting for police to come arrest him.

Really. You can't make this stuff up.

At last, I am sitting in a taxi on the way to my house to cuddle with my boys. I couldn't possibly stand any more public transportation today so I skipped the train.

I guess it's been memorable and I guess it could have all been a lot worse but I am ecstatic that this day is O.V.E.R.