Getting to Berlin- part 2

Following the train incident, we had to board a bus to take us to the airport.  When we purchased our plane tickets, I had printed off the information and felt that I was prepared to get us from point a to point b.  I didn’t factor in the recent train/airline strike that had plagued the country.  I read the information and it said that we were at Terminal 2.  So, we got off the bus at terminal 2.  Upon arriving at the front door of the terminal, we came to a sign that read “all flights are taking off from Terminal 1.”  Great.  Terminal 1 is about a 10 minute drive from terminal 2.  We got into a taxi (which were conveniently the only other people at the abandoned terminal – how very saavy on their part to line up where unsuspecting foreigners would be dumped off the bus) and rode to the other terminal.  Once we arrived at the correct terminal, we proceeded to try and enter the terminal – again, stopped in our tracks.  This time, there was a “suspicious package.”  The Hungarian guards stopped us about 50 meters from the suspicious package – so had it blown up, we would have been dead anyways, but I guess this was their way of protecting us.  Dogs and officers circled the red suitcase and put it into some sort of container.  It took about 25-30 minutes, and we were finally allowed into the terminal we needed to be in. 

We were traveling by a cheap European airline, so the check-in opened two hours before the departure of your plane.  You were not assigned a seat so that they could save on overhead- so people liked to check in early to then line up at the gate to choose their seat.  As Vivvi and I were chatting and waiting for our check-in to open, a nice man (over 80 years old) approached us.  He asked us where we were going, and told us he was going to London.  His check in was at the same time ours was, so he was looking for where his line was.  He noted quickly that we were not Hungarian and asked what we were doing in Hungary.  We told him that we were teaching – Vivvi in Guyla and myself in Tata.  He responded by saying that he had taught at the Gimnázium in Tata.  I told him that’s where I teach!!  He was a head teacher here 48 years ago – in 1956 – and after that school year, fled the country in October during the revolution.  What a small world.  I took a picture with my Eötvös friend and we were on our way.  The line to check in was long, but we eventually made it up there.  We worked our way through security to our gate and waited.  And waited and waited.  We changed gates, and waited.  And changed gates and waited.  Our flight ended up being almost 2 hours late – but whatever, we didn’t have connections to make or anything, and it was a cheap airline, so what the heck. 

Once we got into Berlin, it took just over an hour to get to our hostel.  We rode a commuter train into the city – and a homeless man (who didn’t smell) was nice enough to direct us as to where to go.  There is nothing as daunting as a new subway system to try and maneuver on little sleep and with travel fatigue.  We got to where we switched trains, and ran into another group of English speakers.  The dad of the group immediately struck up conversation with us.  It turns out, their two families were going to the exact same hostel that we were.  He worked on some army base in Frankfurt (I think – I don’t remember) and had been living in Germany with his family since 2004.  This was the FIRST time they had been to Berlin.  Excuse me – you’ve been here over 4 years, and you’ve never been to the capital of the country you are living in?  It only took me 4 months… I judged him based on that.  I also judged their entire group to be a bit crazy and too American.  The adults were running frantically to read maps and make sure they were going the right way.  The four (or five?) teenage kids all milled around not helping the situation.  The one dad struck up conversation with complete strangers while one wife was totally freaking out.  Vivvi and I dubbed them the Griswolds of our European Christmas vacation.  The dad was totally Clark Griswold like – a little obnoxious, but friendly.  He talked – in the first 10 minutes of meeting us – about going to a techno dance bar in Germany.  While not on the list of things Vivvi and I wanted to do, it seemed to be one of those mid-life crisis things that he would feel totally cool and hip doing.  We decided to board a different metro car than they did – and it was on.  We got to our subway station, and prepared to switch trains.  We only had a 20 Euro bill, so we had to stop and get change and it set us back, but Vivvi and I joked that we were doing the Amazing race, and we were competing against the Griswolds.  We looked over our shoulders as we searched frantically for a ticket kiosk, and put the money in.  We weren’t sure which type of ticket we needed, but guessed quickly and set out for our train.  We were sure they were still bumbling around trying to figure out where to go.  We got off at our stop, and though we surfaced at the wrong end of the station, we still were sure that we would beat the Griswolds.  We hustled to the hostel – I jokingly asked where the clue box was, we barreled through the front doors – only to find the Griswolds checking in already.  WHAAAAT?  How did they beat us?  With all those people – and the bumbling wife and Clark?  I don’t know how it could have happened.  We waited to check in – and of course they had issues finding ID’s and passports and splitting the costs… it was frustrating to watch.  They beat us, and now were holding up our time checking in.  Ugh.