A geeky girl living in the big city, making her way, the only way she knows how... no wait, that's The Dukes of Hazzard. Who am I again? Oh yeah, a pop culture obsessed writer, publishing person, and occasional nerd. And I'm getting married. I talk about that, too.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Want to be home. NOW.

This has been our time so far in the Frankfurt airport:

1. Arrive from Prague. Go through passport control, baggage claim, and customs.

2. Travel to different terminal. Check in for our flight. Go shopping.

3. Go through passport control and security.

4. Have (unappealling) lunch.

5. Go through security again to get to our gate, a small area where the only other flight posted is to Tel Aviv.

6. Nap. Ah.

7. Having been told '"it's not a jail" and that we can leave the gate area, I go get ice cream for both of us forty minutes before we're scheduled to board.

8. Return to security with ice cream. Am told I can't bring it in, and Doyce is inside with our carry-on bags and jackets. Attempt to flag him down to come out and enjoy frozen (note: not liquid) treat.

9. See Doyce with our bags. Find a spot to talk through the glass. Loud German voice woke him from nap to tell that we were boarding.

10. Throw out 5 euro ice cream, untouched. Go through security and get wanded AGAIN by same German attendant.

11. Show boarding pass and passport to another set of Germans, to go through metal gate and sit back down EXACTLY where we sat down two hours earlier.

12. Blog furiously, highly annoyed.

There better be free beer and a good movie on this flight, that's all I can say.

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