Getting There

After frantically packing, cleaning, and making sure the kids were ready, it was time to head to the airport. My sister in-law (Rebecca's sister), who's watching both our house and our dog while we're away, came over on Saturday morning to take us there. We loaded everything up into our van. Each of the boys had a carry-on suitcase with wheels they could pull and each had a backpack with various electronics, books, etc. they wanted. I had a larger suitcase I wanted to check. Then I had my tri bag, which was packed to the brim with all the gear I'll need to race Ironman Austria, plus all the stuff I need to train with. When it all comes together, I realized it's really quite a lot. To be fair (to me), I also packed Rebecca's helmet and cycling shoes in my bag. I wound up needing to put the last of my running shirts in the regular suitcase as they just couldn't squeeze into the tri bag. I also had the bike box, a backpack, and my laptop case.

We got to the airport about two hours before our flight, pulled all the stuff out of the van, and headed into ticketing. As I was standing at the ticket counter, I realized I didn't have my laptop bag and nearly panicked. My sister in-law volunteered to run back through the airport to the parking area and look in the van. The implication was that if it wasn't there, if I'd actually left it at home, she'd drive back, find it, and bring it back to the airport for me. Luckily I'd just left it in the van.

After handing over the passports, and the guy at the check-in counter doing a bunch of typing and swiping of our passport barcodes, he asked if there was any luggage to check. I said, "Yes, three things." I already had the bike box front and center and he asked, "Does it include that?!" I said, "Yes" and he wanted me to get it up on the scale to weigh it. I'd not had an opportunity to weigh it before, so I had no idea. It came out to 59 pounds.

The bike box with two bikes, four wheels, and all needed parts and pieces!

 I was waiting for him to tell me it was going to cost $200, but instead he said he was going to grant me an "exception" and not charge me for it. So, the bikes went on the plane for free! It was a great start to the trip.

The kids and I had an uneventful flight to D.C. and then had an interesting journey on a high-rise "bus" / shuttle that took us to a terminal where we learned we needed to board an underground train to get to our departure terminal. After that, we grabbed a bit to eat directly across from our gate and waited.

Seat map of a Boeing 767-300

We boarded early, when they called for families, and found our seats. Unfortunately, we weren't seated together. Anson wound up in seat C, Aaron had seat D, and I was in seat K, but a row behind them. I talked with Rebecca, who booked the flight, if we had contiguous seating originally and she said, "Yes," so somewhere along the way were were moved around. Maybe the guy who let me check the bike for free "got his" by moving our seats around. I'm not sure. Regardless, the kids were "off on their own," and I had a seat "to myself." The person who sat next to me, in seat H, was a professional snowboarder, who flew all the time for years and got sick frequently, so when he sat down, he slathered his hands in Purrell and then smeared them all over the tray table back, sides, and top as well as his arm rests. He was then on his phone talking to a friend and mentioned that he wished he had a window seat. When he was done, I offered to switch with him as I prefer an aisle and would be one seat closer to my kids. He gladly accepted and when we switched, he repeated his Purrell ritual. I guess I should be thankful he cleared all the germs away.

I watched a couple of movies with the awesome entertainment system and fully charged my phone.

In-seat entertainment touch-screen with USB charger and headphone jack.

I then tried to sleep a bit, but it was useless as I could never seem to get comfortable. Meanwhile, Mr. Snowboarder was sacked out nicely, with his head resting against his own pillow, all propped up against the window. They served an decent dinner on the flight, complete with some nice red wine; then came through offering more wine; and came back a third time offering more wine. I took advantage each time. I think it helped me stay relaxed and with eyes closed, even if I could actually fall asleep. When we were about an hour out of Vienna, they came through the cabin and offered a hot flaky pastry, the size of a large paperback book, filled with ham and cheese. It was really good! One last thing about the actual flight: before you could watch anything on the entertainment system, they played a cute little commercial that, it turns out, we all learned by heart and have joked about ever since the flight. Here it is for our memory and to share with you:

Once we landed, I learned that my youngest had been sick on the decent. He managed to contain it all in a bag that had held the free blanket they gave you. Still, we had to do some cleaning up before we got off the plane. As a result, we were among the last stragglers who de-planned. Another outcome is that we couldn't simply follow the crowd. So, I did my best to read all the German signage and was following the signs for "Ausgang Wien." Doing so, however, I was suddenly unclear as to where and how we could clear customs. We had passed a sign for "Customs Declarations" just outside our gate. After walking to the end of the terminal and down an escalator we came to a Polizei (police) counter, that looked a lot like customs areas I've been through before. They, however, directed be back up to the place I'd already walked past. So, with a sick child in-tow and all our carry-on baggage, we went back up and down the hallway. As I approached I realized this wasn't the customs I was looking for and we turned around. 

This time we went past the Polizei counter and around the corner, again following the "Ausgang Wien" signs. These took us to sliding doors out onto the tarmac! However, there was also signage indicating a shuttle bus would come. We took that across the airport to another terminal, labeled F and G. It didn't look like the main terminal to me and certainly didn't seem like it by it's name(s), so I stayed on board. After everyone else had gotten off, the driver turned to me and said, auf Deutsch (in German), "These are terminals F and G. End of the line. You must get off." So, we did. Inside I found signs for Gepäckausgabe (baggage claim) and we followed them. We got to a point where it looked like we'd leave the "secured area," and I was unclear, still, how we would clear customs. I asked someone in a suit with airport security badges hanging around his neck if he spoke English. Luckily he did. When I asked where Customs was, he simply smiled and pointed at what I thought was the exit. 

I've always had to stand in long lines to clear customs, at times at risk of missing my connecting flights (flying through Toronto to get to Germany a couple of years ago). These counters were all but empty with nobody standing in line. We walked right up to the counter, handed over our passports, endured a scowling look from the young 20-something Customs Officer, who summarily stamped our visas and then we were on our way. Down another escalator there were more signs for Gepäckausgabe and I was able to find which baggage claim our stuff was at. We came in at #15 and ours was #7. By the time we got there, the only two bags going around were my checked suitcase and tri bag! Now, I needed to find the bike box. I was looking for a sign for übergroßen Gepäckausgabe (oversized baggage claim). It turned out to be all the way at the end, down past #1. My bike box was sitting there and as I claimed it and started pulling it, with my tri bag on top and my checked suitcase being pulled by the other hand (with my backpack on and laptop bag over my shoulder), an airport person who'd been sitting there looking bored to tears got up and walked back with us.

We were finally able to make it out to where people would greet you. I was looking for a driver Rebecca had arranged through the Institute she's working for. I found him holding a sign with our name on it. When he saw the bike box he just shook his head. He only spoke German, but I clearly got the message that everything we had wouldn't fit. I was a bit confused as I knew Rebecca purposefully ordered a van to make sure it would all fit. After making our way to the elevator and out to the parking area, I saw what he was worried about. He came in a Mercedes Benz station wagon. Not a U.S. sized one, but a European sized one -- smaller. After more limited communication with him only speaking German and me speaking it poorly, he wound up calling his boss and a second vehicle was ordered. Once it arrived, I helped them pack the bikes in the second vehicle, and they, along with my tri bag and myself, followed the first vehicle with my kids and the rest of the luggage. 

The drive to our Wohnung (apartment) took about 15 minutes and we were able to see much of the city. It's large and quite beautiful. We finally pulled up to our parking pad and found Rebecca waiting for us. It was quite nice to be reunited and finally at our destination!