Picture this. It was 11pm on a Wednesday night and JR and I were headed to bed. We were leaving for our R&R back to the States on a 5:15 a.m. flight, so we had our alarms set for 2:30am, and motorpool scheduled to pick us up 45 minutes later.
JR received this text message: We’re sorry, your flight from Tbilisi to Munich has been canceled.
Awesome way to start our R&R.
I called Lufthansa directly while he phoned the Embassy hoping to reach one of the ladies who handles travel arrangements. While the Lufthansa guy was telling me we needed to wait until Friday to fly out, JR had much more luck with Khatuna from the Embassy’s office. It took almost an hour and several phone calls, but she was able to reroute us on a flight to Warsaw at 5:50 a.m. and then a connection to Munich that would put us back on our original itinerary. Huge thanks to the travel office for helping us in the middle of the night. An additional flight was not desirable, but manageable. The catch? One of us needed to be at the airport 3 hours prior to our departure to confirm and pick-up our tickets from the Lufthansa counter. Since the entire flight to Munich had been canceled we knew that others were probably trying to catch the Warsaw flight and we did not want to lose our new tickets.
At this point it was midnight. We had the option of all 3 of us leaving our house at 2am and waiting much longer at the airport, or one of us could drive to the airport right then, pick up the tickets, and drive back home and (hopefully) get a bit more sleep. I drew the short straw, so I cranked up the Taylor Swift and made my way to the airport in search of the Lufthansa counter – which doesn’t exist. Because of course it doesn’t. I talked to security and waited in a back hallway for the “office” to open. Once the staff did arrive I waited while they had a chit chat and a cup of coffee before they were able to assist. I was fading fast when they printed the tickets, but I was in a great mood because we had managed to overcome this big hurdle and surely we’d have smooth travels ahead.
Our flight to Warsaw was uneventful. The last minute change somehow gave Abby and JR premium class seats, and he very kindly allowed me to sit a few rows back and sleep most of the flight while he dealt with Abby. We were late leaving so we landed at 7:20 – the exact departure time of our next flight. The airlines sent a representative to meet us and a few other passengers and they rushed us through customs, security and the airport to the waiting plane. This time we all had premium class seats and once again, we foolishly thought the worst was behind us. Who would have thought the Polish have the best customer service?
In Munich, we found a small play area for Abby and spent over an hour there letting her burn off some energy. It was relaxed and we were feeling good. We took our time walking to the gate for our next flight, and on the way we heard our names called over the loudspeaker. I was confused because we had more than 40 minutes until take off, but we picked up the pace and walked up to the gate agent. She kindly informed us that JR was not booked on the flight. Abby and I had tickets, but during all the changes earlier the previous night/that morning, somehow JR was added to a Lufthansa flight leaving several hours later.
I was panicked. That’s actually an understatement, I was internally freaking out. For weeks now we’d been operating under the new plan with all of us flying together to DC. To have this sprung on me moments before we were supposed to board was not okay. As JR calmly explained the mix up to the gate agent, I was going through our carry-on bags and separating our things in case we couldn’t fix it. After what felt like forever (but was probably only 5-10 minutes) they acted like he would be able to go with us, but the other employees were insisting that Abby and I board immediately or we would miss the plane.
I pushed Abby as slowly as I could, but before long we were at the end of the jet way and the flight attendants were asking us to board. I told them I was waiting for my husband. Again, this wait felt like forever because I truly didn’t know if he was going to be allowed on the plane. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so relieved to see his face as I was when he finally appeared.
Now came the hard part. The 9 hour flight with an almost two year old. We settled in and hoped for the best, and to her credit, she did really well until about the last 2 hours. But that last two hours was really awful. We tried every trick we knew to get her to sleep or at least calm down. She was exhausted (at this point she had probably slept for a total of 3-4 hours the whole day, and it was still Tbilisi time for us, so about 10pm and well past her bedtime). She was screaming and crying and really could not be consoled. She would snuggle up and close her eyes, but less than a minute later she’d be at it again because she couldn’t get comfortable. She kept saying “night night, night night” and I felt like the worst mother ever, because my poor kid just wanted to be in bed sleeping. Although I had though it to myself several times, this was the first point where JR and I actually said aloud to each other “never again.” We are never, ever doing this again. (Note that my sister is getting married in Ohio in October, so never again means we’ll have to find a way to cancel or relocate her wedding).
We finally landed, and bless the kind people who sat around us and told us what a great kid she was and how she did so well on the plane. Seriously, I was so tired and stressed and just plain sad in that moment that their nice words nearly made me cry.
DC was the final stop for JR, and I started to mentally prepare myself for doing the final leg of our journey solo. I thought we’d have more time together, but quite quickly after we left the plane we had to head in opposite directions. We said a quick goodbye and then Abby and I made our way to customs. I had to take her out of her stroller for her passport picture, which she hated. Then we waited at baggage claim for our 3 checked bags. When I had pictured this part of our trip I thought JR would still be with us, but since he wasn’t I had to make do and I gave Abby my iPhone to watch videos while I waited on our bags and loaded them on a luggage cart.
Pushing the luggage cart and stroller simultaneously was no easy feat, but we managed. We rechecked our bags and made our way through security and then to our gate. We only had about 20 minutes before boarding so we used that time to buy some water and stretch our legs. The plane was outside on the tarmac and as I took Abby out of her stroller, another passenger offered to help me. I think he meant help with my bags, but at that moment Abby tried to take off while I collapsed her stroller so I asked him to grab her hand so she didn’t run under the plane. He held on to her while I put the stroller on the luggage cart and I thanked him profusely. Meanwhile, JR was in another part of the airport waiting for his luggage that never arrived. He had work meetings the next day, so as soon as he made it to his hotel he had to run out and buy a shirt, tie and pants.
The flight to Cleveland was only 50 minutes. 50 minutes! We can do this, I thought. Then we sat on the plane for an hour waiting for fuel. Never again, I said to myself for the 100th time that day.
It was snowing and freezing when we touched down in Cleveland, but I didn’t care. It was great to see my parents waiting for us. Abby fell asleep in her car seat on the ride home, and barely woke up when we changed her and put her to bed. My mom and brother took the monitor so I could sleep as much as possible, and I actually felt well rested the next morning. Once I showered and ate breakfast, I settled on the couch and watched Abby light up as she played with my parents. She kept running to them and hugging them, calling for them anytime they left the room. All I heard all day was “Nana!! Papu!!” And pretty quickly I thought, yeah, we’ll do this again.