As every day, I read Spiegel Online, my main source of information and connection to home.
One article talked about yet another round of strikes at Lufthansa, Germany’s biggest carrier, and, incidentally, my ticket home.
The pilots’ union announced another strike day for Saturday, 21st, concerning all long-haul flights. Uff, I though, thank God, not Sunday, my day of return.
Then it dawned on me: If my plane doesn’t leave Frankfurt the night before, I won’t leave Buenos Aires, the day after.
Which would mean an additional day in Buenos Aires, or, who knows, more (as I paid my seat with miles and I am not sure high on a waiting list…)
And I had a bit of a hot flash.
I realized that the normally more than welcome extension of a holiday by force majeure somehow didn’t feel that enticing.
I would have to re-arrange a lot of things: accommodation in BsAs, cancel meetings in Brussels, re-schedule, etc, etc. No, please!
And so I thought: maybe I am ready for it, I am ready to go home. I want to hop on that flight now.
I still have this weekend in Buenos Aires, and I am sure it will be great.
But at the same time, it’s a chain of good-byes, again, of hugs and kisses and last coffees, of ‘see-you-again-some-time’, maybe next year, or ‘come-visit-me-in-Europe’.
I want to see everyone, and at the same time, I want to skip it. Call my flight now, I’m boarding.
In the morning, I already had a mail from Lufthansa in my inbox. My flight is rescheduled and will leave Ezeiza airport on Sunday, with only 2 hours delay.
The plane will leave Frankfurt on Sunday morning instead of Saturday night (they have to wait for the night flight ban to lift).
But instead of standing in Ezeiza for nearly 10 hours as usual (other companies take their bird over to Santiago and back during that time), my 747-8I will make an immediate u-turn and bring me back to Frankfurt with hopefully only minimal delay.
I’m pretty sure I’ll miss my connection in Frankfurt, and they’ll book me on a later flight to Brussels, but I’ll make it.
But yeah, I think it’s ok.
It’s done. I’m ready.
Who am I to decide what should be done?
If this is the end then let it come
Let it come, let it rain
Rain all over me
Like the tide, let it flow
Let it wash all over me
Over me, let it wash all over me