Guten Tag,
I'm greeting you from Munich and waiting to board my flight to Los Angeles. My apartment is usually quiet, but last night when I really needed to sleep there was one party in the street after another. I had an early flight, so eventually I gave up, packed, had a snack, and cleaned myself up.
The worst part of the trip to the airport was getting my bags down the dark narrow staircase. There is a light, but it only stays on for two minutes--not enough time for me to wrestle with the bags. This got scary, but I made it. I left the key in the drop box, and peeked out the door. My driver was waiting for me, and we had a quick, smooth trip to the airport.
I found the check in desk, and I was the only one waiting, but the family checking in apparently had some dreadful problem with their booking. The agent made phone calls. He went to consult someone, who made phone calls. He came back and made phone calls. Meanwhile I was left waiting. The usual practice when there's a snag is to call the next person and check them in. This didn't happen. Finally--after about twenty minutes the agent doing economy check in took pity on me and got the job done. Easy peasy in my case.
I had plenty of time to get through security, visit duty free, and find my gate. And the flight left on time and they fed me a nice breakfast, which I scarfed up because I was really hungry. Here it is: Northern European continental. Very yummy.
I had to wait to find out my gate, but once that was done I got through ESS quickly. I took the shuttle to my gate, but it was fast, so here I am. See you aboard.
And here I am home again. I had a very pleasant flight. I flew "The Queen of the Skies" the double decker Boeing 747-8 tricked out in the 100th Anniversary livery. I was in their basic business seat, but that's fine with me. I was comfortable. Right after dinner, I pushed the button to turn my seat into a bed and conked out. I got six or seven hours of sleep, and I needed it!
One of our fellow passengers was a cat named Theodore--very fluffy, but mostly he needed to stay in his carrier, and sometimes he'd meow in protest. All of us enjoyed having a furry fellow passenger, but I'm afraid he did not enjoy his flight.
The flight attendant addressed me not only by name, but by my academic title. I was pleased by the respect shown, but how did he find out? I don't splash my Ph.D. about because women who hold them are called pretentious. Men aren't, of course.
I remembered to take a photo of the starter. I was disappointed in the food on my outward bound flight (being a spoiled business class passenger), but I enjoyed the food coming home.
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