@Flughafen Frankfurt
I am transiting Frankfurt Flughafen on my way to DC. The flight from Bangalore is very exhausting, as I travel Economy as per the company rules. Lufthansa was my favourite carrier before the Middle East carriers started operating. Punctuality, cleanliness and easy check-in are some of the attributes which weigh in favour of Lufthansa. My familiarity with Frankfurt airport is another critical factor.
As soon as the aircraft gate opens, I rush out, ignoring some of the Business class members. Unfortunately, a hurried walk gives the impression that I am missing the connecting flight. But, like a marathon runner, I quickly arrive at the transit area in Terminal 2. A few snooze pods or recliners are available for passengers to take a rest here. I need to hang around for an empty recliner as this area is always wholly occupied. I am lucky this time. One of the passengers is vacating as I reach the spot.
I keep my shoulder bag down, remove my shoes and lay on the recliner. I have my passport and the boarding pass for connecting flight in the top pocket of my jacket. As my connecting flight is three hours away, I relax and get into a deep slumber quickly. Flughafen Frankfurt is a quiet airport despite heavy traffic, and the mild audible announcements do not disturb the passengers.
I wake up thirty minutes before the departure of my flight to DC. I look at the giant display board, and the departure gate is in Terminal 1. I quicken my pace as I need to clear customs before I reach my boarding gate. There are few passengers for the baggage check; it is a breeze to come out of the customs area and proceed to the departure gate. I refresh myself in a toilet nearby, change my T-shirt, which I usually do during transit. I find a Starbucks store and stand in the queue. A pleasant aroma of coffee and fresh pastries permeates the store, with a few customers in front of me. I order a Chai Tea Latte extra hot as I reach the service counter, and I look for the wallet in my bag. I am startled that I do not find the wallet. The service person in the green uniform with the Starbucks logo at the counter is staring at me. To my dismay, I do not see the wallet. I have all my cash and traveller’s cheques in that brown wallet. A young girl next in the line watches my predicament and quickly gives me her card to pay for my tea. With a brief note of thanks to the girl, I sit down at an empty table, sipping my tea. Can you imagine boarding a flight to the US without a single dollar in your pocket?
I rush to a Lufthansa transit desk for help. As expected, they point me to the airport authority. A Police officer in uniform is standing nearby, and I explain the situation. He asks me to wait at the same spot and that he would be right back. I imagine that he has found my wallet and has gone to get it. Instead, he comes with a set of forms to fill. Without any other hope, I fill in the details. Finally, he gives me one copy and vanishes from the scene. I rush to my departing gate. The service agent at the gate scans my boarding pass and lets me inside the aircraft. I stroll on the sky bridge and enter the plane. I am one of the last passengers as the cabin is packed, and I do not find the space in the baggage bin. Therefore, I have to keep my bag in front of my seat. As I fasten my seat belt, several thoughts start racing in my mind. How do I travel to my hotel? Whose help should I seek on arrival? I do not have a single dollar even to telephone anyone? I have two nephews in New Jersey and Baltimore. How would they send me money? I can take the help of Monica or Susan from my office, and it would be too late to call them. Who will help me at Dulles Airport on arrival?
Very soon, I hear the closing of the doors after the boarding complete announcement. Then, the aircraft starts pushing back from the parking position. Then, the plane suddenly stops, and the doors open again. It must be a technical snag, and there could be a delay in the flight departure. Two German police officers are walking briskly in the aisle to everyone’s surprise. The passengers crane their heads as the officers stop in front of my seat. One of the officers asks for my identity, pulls out the brown wallet from his pocket and hands it over. Then, without waiting for a second, they march back to the main door. The doors close, and we are wheels up in an instance.
