There's nowhere to go but up. That's what I have been telling myself all day. I keep thinking, "Now. Now is bottom, there can't be much more that goes wrong for me today." I keep being wrong, but I figure, by the time I go to sleep tonight, it will be true, and at that point, Belgium will be all uphill.
The day started innocuous enough. I got a good night's sleep after an awesome last evening (courtesy of Deloitte at Tia's and Aberdeen City at the Paradise). I got up fairly early, and was ready to finish packing up my bags, run a few errands, and head to the airport.
Except that somewhere along the way, the amount of stuff put aside to pack (which I had been trying to be very careful about) and the amount of stuff that would actually fit in two suitcases somehow got out of sync. So I spent much more time than planned repacking my bags, ultimately getting it to work out. I was convinced that they were too heavy, though, a source of much worry; in retrospect, this is the most ridiculous worry I had all day - like I could pick up too 70 lb. bags. Clearly they were within the weight limits.
Anyway, I then came across a whole cupboard of glasses that somehow got overlooked by my movers (I am pretty sure I pointed them out, but maybe not; doesn't really matter, I didn't catch them in the last minute "did you get everything?" check that the movers did). So I then spent an hour collecting the overlooked dishes together and walking them down Mass. Ave. to the UPS store, in order to ship them to my aunt's house to be stored for two years. Thus, all other errands ended up getting ignored.
All of this is just normal annoying travel nonsense, though. It doesn't start to get really bad until 1 pm, when I call the cab company. Halfway through calling them, my phone runs out of battery, and I have to unpack my charger in order to make the call. No big deal, cab's on it's way, plenty of time before the 3:45 flight to Brussels, via JFK. I collect up my belongings and look around the apartment to make sure I have everything. Looks good, so I lock up and, since I am moving out, slide the keys underneath the door.
I get into the cab a few minutes later, and do my standard check to make sure I have my wallet. I have never done this check and not had my wallet... until today. That's right, I left my wallet upstairs. In my apartment. My locked apartment, under whose door I have already slid my keys.
I am now internally freaking out about how I don't know what I am going to do, but trying (not overly well) to calmly explain to the cab driver the situation and that, although I am really really sorry, I have to get out and I don't have any money to pay the $2 that is on the meter. He starts yelling at me about how he waited for 2 hours in the line to pick me up, and now I have wasted his day, because he has to get back in the cab line. Oh, right. Because I, the girl freaking out in the back seat of your cab, did this on purpose. Because I WANTED to have to figure out how to get back into my apartment and make a flight in just over 2 hours. The yelling is certainly going to help.
So now I have all my luggage, no keys, no wallet, and a dead cell phone. My (soon to be former) roommate is out of town, and I can't call my landlady without an electrical socket. Luckily, the yoga place downstairs is open, and the wonderful woman inside let me through the outside gate, lent me a hangar (to try to get the keys back out from under the door) and a phone (to call my landlady). I take back everything I have ever said about that yoga studio being a cult. Well, they still might be a cult, but they are a nice cult that helped me when I needed it and offered me tea, and I am appreciative.
Twenty minutes and some amazing maneuvering with a hangar, and the keys are back in my possession. Good thing I didn't do a better job of pushing them under the door. I run in, find my wallet (hiding on a counter top behind a plant), and one quick call to the cab driver who yelled at me (I figured he would be free, since he was back in that 2 hour wait - and yeah, he gave me another lecture about how mean it is to mess with a cabbie's place in line on the way to the airport) and I am back on my way.
Cab ride goes well, and I get to the airport with plenty of time to check in. I had put myself on the wait list for a business class upgrade for my flight from JFK to Brussels (I figured I had the miles from all the trips I have been doing lately), and the agent confirmed that I was the only one on the list. Things were looking up. So much so that I splurged and paid the fee to check my third bag, that I was going to carry on with me. That way, it would be a nicer trip through the airports - I could just relax, instead of hauling around all these heavy bags. Things are looking up.
Until 3:15, when they announce that, instead of boarding our flight as we thought we were about to do, we would be sitting in the airport for another couple hours, because Air Traffic Control at JFK had delayed our flight's departure until 6 pm. Which, coincidentally, is when my flight from JFK to Brussels was scheduled to leave. So, two gate agents later (one very nice, one rude as hell), I am rebooked to fly Boston to Brussels via Manchester, UK, which leaves at 8:10 pm.
Apparently, a spot on the upgrade waiting list does not transfer with a rebooking. Unfortunately somehow, somewhere along the way, I had gotten it into my head that a business class seat was going to make the day ten times brighter, and was guaranteed after all the stress I had already endured. So, two rude gate agents and a mean AAdvantage telephone operator later, I am out in the check in line to ask the ticketing desk to put me on a waiting list. As it turns out, someone was on my side for this one, because I got to the front of the line and told the ticketing agent my story, and she took one look at me and said "I am not going to put you on a waiting list. I am just giving you the seat. You look like you've had a bad day." Wow, subtle way of saying you look like crap, but worked out for me, yeah? So, five minutes later, I am happily drinking free wine in the Admiral's Lounge, waiting to go board a plane for my row 1 window seat (word to the wise: AA flight to Manchester? Worst business class ever. Seats are only slightly larger than economy, and the meals and movies are the exact same as coach, where AA usually does an excellent business class meal service. Not worth the money. Totally worth the free upgrade.)
The flight was uneventful, if less than sleep-filled. Transfer in Manchester was easy, and I stocked up on delicious ginger biscuits. Fast forward to Brussels. At this point, I have bonded with five other passengers that were switched to the same flights to get to Brussels (shout out to Clara - good luck with the internship at the EU). We are all standing around, watching the luggage carousel, and someone notices that, although none of us have luggage, our flight has declared that all bags are unloaded. Oh, yeah. Typical. Despite assurances from the ground crew in Boston (and actually hearing the luggage handlers discuss the change in flights over the radio), our bags never made it on our plane. Score. Maybe I shouldn't have checked that third bag after all, eh? So, an hour later and a couple sheets of paperwork, I am headed out of customs with little more than a computer bag to my name.
Luckily, I had a whole little bag of Euro / Euro cents in said computer bag, which I used to call the partner I will be working with (to tell him I wouldn't be at work the next day, since I had no clothes but that which were on my back) and to call the car service Deloitte had set up (who had apparently decided I wasn't coming, so they weren't waiting for me). Five minutes later, I am on my way to my temporary apartment, really looking forward to a shower and a nap.
Only to find that my temporary apartment actually had NO WATER. As in, none at all. No hot water? Fine, I would have dealt with a cold shower. But there's no water at all. There was, however, internet, which was my saving grace. Internet, and Greg, the partner I will be working for, who came through for me (again) and called the management company and did some yelling until they moved me into another unit for 24 hours while they fixed the cause of the problem, a broken boiler.
In the end, it all worked out. I got to Brussels safe and sound, my luggage was found by Monday night, the boiler was fixed and I am now in my own temporary apartment. But man oh man, I could do without another 48 hours like that one. But then again - if it used up my bad luck for the year, who am I to complain?
Congrats if you made it to the end of this post. It was a doozie.
Song of the Day: Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, Monty Python
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHPOzQzk9Qo
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