“Ring-ring-ring”
“Hello?”
“Your wake up call”
“Yeah thanks,” I laid
there for a couple of minutes but I knew that I had better get going. The time was about 3:45ish (more like 3:50
because I laid there for a little bit).
All I had to do was get my clothes together and go. So I did.
When I came down to the reception desk, a dude greeted me at
the front desk, ready for me to check out.
I handed in the agency cell phone and paid for the night. A little care package was ready for me to
take along since breakfast wouldn’t open at the hotel for another 3 hours.
Just a quick aside – breakfast at the BudaPest (oh yeah –
that is how it is capitalized) is the best breakfast that I have had on
continental Europe. Now my memory is a
little fuzzy about my prior visit to Europe in my teens, but that one breakfast last Sunday
was so magical that I cannot believe that anything else could compare. They were so nice to give me some of that
magical goodness to go.
I got packed in the taxi and was off to the airport at a
little after 4:00. For some reason, I
felt that the taxi driver went out of his way to find the bumpiest roads in
Sofia. Well, actually almost all of the
roads in Sofia are bumpy, so I think that it may have been my perception as I
was waking up. I’m glad that it was
dark.
I ended up safely at the airport ready for my day of jetsetting
to get back home. First surprise was
that the airline that I was flying, Lufthansa, was not open yet. They opened at 5:00. It was 4:25.
The only thing I could do was stand and wait. I busted out my (rosary) beads and prayed.
Once the Lufthansa line opened, with me playing
caboose, it slowly whittled down.
Once I got to the front, the following occurred:
“Oh here’s my flight thingy…oh wait..it's…” I stammered.
“Oh, I can just scan your passport,” says Mr. Lufthansa.
“Ok.”
“So, you going to Frankfurt?”
“Uh, no. No I’m
not. I’m headed to Munich.”
“Oh that one’s been cancelled.”
CANCELLED!
I thought that the little strike was going to end on Friday? This was Saturday morning! So now what?
I think that I kept the stuff out of the quotes in my head….who knows, 'cause it was around 5:00 am.
Well, for all of the inconvenience that Lufthansa caused by
cancelling my stupid flight, they actually made up for it in booking me on alternate
flights. Furthermore, no charge – makes
me think that maybe it was a cheaper route.
Well anyway, instead of Munich, I was rerouted through Rome. From Rome, I would go to Charlotte, my
proxy for home. I would fly Bulgaria Air
on the way to Rome and then sail the unionized skies (wait, they are unionized
right?) with US airways. What fun!
 |
| Ice crystals forming on my window on the way into Rome |
Cool thing was that for my flight to Rome I was seated in
the emergency exit aisle. Seriously,
SCORE! Not only was I getting to go to
the Eternal City, but I got extra leg room.
I napped on and off on the way over.
They served a nice mystery meat and cheese roll with a very nice
Bulgarian chocolate. Sure beats the
little biscottis in the US.
The Rome airport feels very much what you would expect an
Italian airport to feel like. The
security lines were pretty much a free-for-all.
It was a crowd of people slowly parsing themselves into the lines for
the metal detector machines. But once I
got through security it was a non-issue.
I was at my gate in plenty of time, so I did what I did best
– get lost. Well, more like meander
aimlessly. I was thinking since I was
here that I might as well pick up a few Roman souvenirs. I found a store, “Discover Rome”, that looked
promising.
I would say about half of the stuff was stuff about Rome
(Coliseum/Ancient Rome stuff), the other half was about popes, in large representation
was Papa Francesco, Pope Francis. It
made me smile thinking that I was in the home town of the Vicar of Christ and
couldn’t help but to buy a few little things.
Other than that, it looks like most other airports. We’ll see what happens in the next flight
(yeah, I’m staying up to date on this).
I think that I’m going to try to find an ATM and get some Euro money. I think that it would be cool….I have some
leva that I’ll set aside for the next trip.
OK this part is written over two weeks later, so details are
a bit fuzzy, but I’ll hit the high points.
The first thing was a security issue. Really!
I had my boarding pass that was printed in Bulgaria with me all ready to
board the flight. When I gave it to the
lady by the gate for boarding, it caused a small kerfuffle. Apparently, I must not have gone through the
“proper” security before heading back to the US. I got siphoned off from the rest of the crowd
boarding the plane and was presented to Italian security personnel who
briefly interviewed me as to where I had gone and what I was doing. Once I said that I was on a trip for an
adoption, he softened up and we were finished up pretty quick-like.
The flight was hell.
For 10 hours I alternated between studying, praying, napping all in the
wonderful sensation of gastric discomfort, but not the kind that a turlet would
help with. I found the US
Airways/American Airlines attendants less attendant than those on the other airlines. Not terrible, but it wasn’t as friendly. The whole thing was purgatory and a blur at
this point.
I have to admit that I am most concerned about the long
plane flight on the way back for Abraham.
I don’t know how others have done it so, I’m going to be researching
vicariously through Sammy’s Facebook reconnaissance.
 |
| There's no place like home! |
Anywho, we landed in Charlotte, and boy did it feel good to
be back in the US. I mean some parts of
Bulgaria I miss (like the food), but there is something to be said about being
back home. I was quite surprised to see
that my luggage made it back in mostly one piece. After a quick run through customs, I was out
of the airport to find my ride. Within
five minutes, Sam and kids found me!
I know that it is going to be a long four to six months
before I can head back to Bulgaria, but I know more than ever that Abraham is
my son. It is tough to wait knowing that
he has to stay in the orphanage during this time, not knowing his family in
the US. I do wonder if he knew that I
would have to leave. For all I know he
thinks that I came to play for a week and then I was gone. It is tough to think about it at times, but
then again, in four to six months, he will be home, forever.
Praise God for looking after me, and guiding us to our
son. May God bless us all as we begin
this Easter season.
God bless,
Sean
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