IM AT THE AIRPORT
And I figured since I’m taking off, I’d leave you with a little story of a girl (me) who went on a little adventure (like a year ago) that went awry.
Just to terrify you because THAT’S FUN!
In preparation for my 30th birthday, I decided to some budget traveling and basically piggy back on other people’s trips. The timing worked out perfectly! First, I would join friends in Barcelona, next, I would meet my mother and her friend in the south of France.
The trip was really coming together, and of course since this was for my 30th birthday, surely my maturity level would insure that I wouldn’t make silly mistakes, like getting drunk and losing my wallet or keys or phone (which, I don’t want to brag, but I was kind of famous for in my younger years.)
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Since I was still a broke AF nanny slash “starving artist,” I booked the budgetiest budget airline I could find! And I got to have a 24 hour layover in Iceland before flying to Paris, where I had another quick layover before flying to Barcelona. The thing is, the cheapest flight from Paris was out of a rinky dinky airport an hour outside the city in the middle of nowhere. I booked it before realizing that there was no public transit from one airport to the other, and when I realized my blunder, I ate decided to eat the $25 dollars for the flight and book a new one out of the same airport I was flying into from Iceland.
So, crisis averted! Almost…
There was still a pre-trip birthday celebration to plan in Los Angeles, of course! And I got efficiently drunk with friends at a swanky little bar where I lost my wallet.
Wait, what?
Yeah. About three days before my trip, my wallet was lost.
So I did all the things. I lurked around the bar during off hours, crouching on the floor, lifting seat cushions, stalking the hostesses.
I ordered a new debit card to my friends home in Barcelona, and I traded a large sum of cash for a check. And, of course, I had my passport as ID.
A little risky, but all I had to do was make it Barcelona. Once I connected with my friends, I would be out of the mud.
And so my adventure began. I flew to Iceland, soaked in the Blue Lagoon, tried to sleep in a hostel but some guy was disgustingly, loudly snoring the entire night, and found my way back to the airport that morning.
The problem was that my flight was delayed. Then it was more delayed. And so on and so forth. You get it. My window for making my connecting flight was getting smaller and smaller, and the now-out-of-business budget airline I was flying offered exactly zero help.
Needless to say, I was freaking out by the time I landed in Paris. If anyone has ever been to Charles De Gaulle airport, you know it’s a big one, and you have to take a train from terminal to terminal.
I landed, and rushed through the airport, literally running as fast as I could with my backpack, jumped on a train to get to the other terminal, ran to the security line, desperately told them my flight was leaving. They said it was probably too late, but they rushed my through the security line.
I ran to the gate, only to discover that I was too late. The gate was closed and my flight had left without me.
I was sulking, all the while my phone losing battery.
Then I remembered I still had a flight booked from the other airport. Seeing as I could only make purchases from my phone, I decided to call an Uber to the airport far, far away and try and make the other flight.
I sat in the car going further and further away from the buzz of the city, or any buzz at all. Eventually I arrived at the small airport… and despite the fact that the airport was getting ready to close, I was on time for my flight!
You may think this is where the story has its happy ending. But it doesn’t.
I quickly realize, after the Uber is long gone, that I left my passport going through security at CDG.
My heart sank.
Now, I was panicking. My phone was in the red. I had no money, only USD which wasn’t accepted, and no where to exchange it. Unlike CDG, there were no Uber’s nearby. No taxis. No banks. No place to plug in my phone. Just me in a strange airport that was shutting down, with no money or ID, and soon to be no phone.
I went to the information desk, pleading for help that she could not give. I finally began to lose it, and felt tears and terror swelling in my eyes.
Just then, a woman and her son approached me. She spoke English and asked what was wrong. A started explaining, getting more hysterical by the second.
She gave me a big hug, and the 20 Euros I needed to get a ticket on the last bus back to Paris.
I did my best to articulate my overwhelming gratitude before running (yes, running) to the bus with only a minute to spare before its departure.
On the bus, I sat next to a gentleman who let me charge my phone on his computer. When we got back to central Paris, he spoke to my Uber driver and explained the situation.
Meanwhile, my amazing mother booked me a room over the phone at a hotel closest to the airport.
I slept fretfully, worrying about whether I’d be able to get my passport back, or whether I’d be spending my birthday alone and broke at the embassy in Paris.
The next morning, I went back to the security line where I had left my passport and was extremely relieved when a guy recognized me and gave me directions to a tiny little office space behind a stairwell.
Tears of relief came when a man handed me back my passport. With a fully charged phone, I booked the next flight to Barcelona where my friends were waiting for me when I got off the bus.
My debit card never arrived in Barcelona, but it didn’t matter because my friends took care of me.
I hid my passport snugly in my backpack.
Actually, I hid my passport so snugly that, when I went back to CDG for my return flight 3 weeks later, I was certain I left it at the hostel.
The flight attendant wouldn’t let me board (of course) and as all the other passengers made their way onto the flight, I was on the phone with the hostel, asking if I had left my passport behind.
Minutes before the gates shut, I found it, sitting deep in a hidden pocket.
The French woman who thought I was an idiot (rightfully so) rolled her eyes and let me board.
Soon, I was back at home, and it felt almost too good to be true.
K WISH ME LUCK BYYYEEEE!!!!!
