11/20/04-Day 5 - The 32-Hour Saturday

Readers -- The Journey Home is a 5-part entry. You should read Day 1 first.

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After we got to the airport, I tried to fend of the “airport service” people until I relented, having negotiated a much reduced rate of 300 Tenge (@ $2.25) They took our bags in and helped me fill out the customs forms. Apparently, in Kazakhstan, you have to fill out customs forms to leave the country. After completing these, I paid the gentleman who helped me, who tried to argue that the price was 3000 Tenge, but I shook my head and pointed to his partner and said we agreed on 300. (I actually gave him all my change since he was helpful, which was about 450.)

We now pushed our way into the mass of humanity that is the Almaty airport. As there were three flights leaving at this early, early hour, there were quite a few people there. As I may have mentioned in the past, standing in an ordered line is not something the Kazakhstani people do well. We waited at the ticket counter in what can only be described as a mass of people. Finally, I reached the check-out counter. Mary Jo had called ahead and reserved us seats and “seats” for the kids. I just needed to pay for the infant tickets. I probably should have done that on the previous day. The lady checking us in asked, “You have no ticket?” Eventually, we had to get a supervisor to issue us a ticket. Gma waited on the side with the two kids and our two carts of luggage as I went down to another window to get the tickets. I waited as the poor gentleman issued us two infant tickets, filling out the complete tickets by hand. This took about 15 minutes, but luckily we were there very early. So, now, with tickets in hand, I worked myself back to my ticket window, talking to the agent over the heads of two gentlemen who politely pushed themselves in front of me. I was able to get all our tickets and boarding passes for all three flights. We then worked our way over to passport control.

At passport control, Gma and I split up, I with Grace and she with Jack. It took a little time, but they eventually let me through. I never asked Gma how hers experience went, but she eventually go through. I wonder about this because the officer asked me to show the kids paperwork and, since I had both files, I don’t know what Gma would have shown if asked. As she got passed the window, I guess she was not asked. After this, I handed her the boarding passed for she and Jack and shoved the others in the bag. Apparently, something happened in this “shoving” that would come back to add great trauma to our already traumatic experience.

We sat in the waiting area sipping a cold drink I purchased with the last few Tenge I possessed. Then, the little tone range and an announcement came over telling us all, as far as I can tell, that it was time to board the flight. Now, I have flown many times in my life, and have had to on many occasions sit and listen to the famous phrase, “We will start boarding with our First Class cabin, our Super mileage people, and those traveling with infants or needing additional assistance.” Now was my first opportunity to hear that line and actually act on it. Unfortunately, I would not hear it in Almaty. And let me kill the suspense – after three flights on this trip, I still have not heard or been able to act on that phrase. However, as we pushed our way through the mass of people to the gate, Jack in the nice umbrella stroller we drug across the world for this exact purpose and Grace in a snuggly strapped to Dad, a very nice lady from the airport walked over, opened the divider and let us walk in ahead of people. We got to the front of the line and I gave the tickets. In all the confusion, they pointed out that I gave the wrong boarding pass for one of the kids and I had to rustle through my bag for the correct pass. It is only in reflection at this very moment that I realize this was the event that would result in the future trauma I alluded to earlier. Anyway, we boarded the plane and settled into our seats. Just as we were entering the plane, they told us to leave the stroller by the stairs. They said it would be outside the plane when we got off. Or so they said…

As I said earlier, Mary Jo had made all the arrangement for our flights home. On the first flight, we were both to be in bulkhead seats with wall hanging bassinets for the kids. On the second flight, they did not have wall hanging bassinets, but we were to have floor bassinets. Since the last trip was only an hour (but did have a 5 hour lay-over), we didn’t need special accommodations. While we waited for take-off, I met the couple behind us, who were traveling with their recently adopted 18-month old boy and their daughter, who they adopted from China 3 years ago. I talked a little about our experience. I handed Grace the emergency evacuation card, which I found on the flight to Almaty was something she really liked. She sat and used it to play peak-a-boo with the people’s daughter before we took off. Here are pictures of the kids in their bassinets.





Anyway, all went as planned on the first flight. After take-off, the very nice flight attendants brought out the bassinets and hung them on the walls. We laid both kids in them and each fell asleep. Grace slept for a little over half of the flight. Unfortunately, for Gma, Jack did not cooperated as much. She spent a big part of the trip trying to keep him in the bassinet. As she was in a window seat and unable to get up, I took on the task of all diaper changings for both kids. So, for parts of the flight I had Jack, but most of it was with Grace. With just under 3 hours left in the 6 ½ hour flight, Grace woke up and decided she did not want to lie down any more. She figured out how to stand up, so there was no winning this fight, so she spent the remainder of the time being held by Dad – a position we would see for much of this trip. During all the time, we were able to feed the kids one meal, a bottle of formula and some juice and enjoy a very nice breakfast of eggs, yogurt and enormous croissants. Eventually, we landed in Frankfurt and left the plane.

As we departed the plane, we looked for our stroller and were told it would be “up by the door just around the corner.” After we got around the corner, there was no stroller to be found. We went back to the plane and asked two different people if they had any ideas. They asked us if it had a yellow sticker on it and I told them I had no idea as their people were the one’s who took it. Well, apparently, if you have no yellow sticker, you have no stroller. So, the nice little umbrella stroller, purchased at Wal-Mart for the specific purpose of helping us drag these kids through the Frankfort and Chicago airports, is now sitting somewhere in airport baggage Never-Neverland.

During our wait, I decided to get our tickets out. As I shuffled through the pile of papers in my bag, I realized that Grace’s boarding pass for the next flight was missing. After we got the gate and after another very nice lady tried to help us find our stroller, I let her know that I would have to go to the ticket window to get another one. We went to the window, which did not open for 15 minutes and asked a person from Lufthansa if there was another open one. She said there was, but, since the plane was operated by United, we would need to go to the gate to get it. So, we picked up our bags and our children (though not in that order) and headed to the next gate. We had to take a nice train to the last concourse. (No matter where you are going, doesn’t it always seem you have to go to the last concourse? Who flies on the planes in the other concourses?) On our way to the gate, we had to go through another security check-point, which had apparently been thrown together for some special purpose as there were no metal detector stands and each person had to be individually “patted down.” Well, this meant I had to take Jack out of the snuggly, where he was frisked and I was wanded. We passed this test and headed to our gate. Luckily, our gate was one of the first in that concourse, one of the few things that went our way.

At the gate, I informed the people we had lost a boarding pass and asked what we needed to do. As with the case of all questions in the airline industry, this required talking to a supervisor. I re-explained my situation and he informed me that, since the ticket was issued by Lufthansa, I would need to go to a Lufthansa ticket window. This involved heading back to the B concourse. (We were now in the C concourse.) He said they would hold the plane, but I must hurry, so I sprinted in the direction he gave me. After one false start, I realized I had to go out, past Checkpoint Charlie to the next concourse. At least I did not have to get back on the train. After about a mile run, I came to the Lufthansa Transfer Center where I could resolve my issue.

Now, not do any racial stereotyping, let me say that I have listened for years to my good friends John and Chris tell me about the great efficiency of the German people. Now, we know no characteristic is 100% true, so there have to be some inefficient German people. The question is, what do they do with them? Apparently, they work at the ticket counter for Lufthansa. After waiting for my turn for what seemed like a lifetime, I explained my situation to the agent behind the counter. She then proceeded to try to re-issue my ticket. Let us just say that it took her 3 times as long as it took the guy who hand wrote all the tickets in the first place. I think the issue was, since they were hand written, she had to re-type everything. Well, she kept typing the wrong information, so it would take. After 20-30 minutes and hearing, “Now boarding United Flight 945 to Chicago,” numerous times, she seemed to get to the end. Then, she called to her supervisor, because we had to fill out a lost document form. I did this as quickly as possible and eventually, I received my new ticket – at 8:15 am for an 8:15 flight. I sprinted back, cajoled my way to the front of the line at Checkpoint Charlie and proceeded to the gate. At the gate, they grabbed our tickets and passports and just told us to get on board; they would bring them on when they were done. Already exhausted and avoiding the intense stares of the other passengers, which were softened when held up Grace to them and let them stare into her enormous brown eyes, we collapsed in our seats.

Did you know that you cannot have two infants sitting in the same row? Well, apparently, the people at reservations didn’t know this either. So, as they are trying to desperately get this plane in the air, they had to hold us up again as they tried to figure out what to do with us. In each row, there is only one extra oxygen mask, so two infants would leave them one mask short. They were able to eventually talk one nice gentleman in our row to change seats (luckily, there was an empty seat on a very packed plane) and we were able to sit together. (On the previous flight, Gma and I sat in separate rows so we could get the bassinets.) I asked the attendant if they had the floor bassinets, when I was informed there was no such thing on these planes. (Strike two for the reservation people) She said she would see what she could do. So, our plane took off and we began our 9 hour flight to Chicago.

At the start of the flight, the attendant did bring some type of bassinet, but it required some place to hook them, which did not exist on this plane. Do ask me why they had it on this plane, but it was of no use to us. Now, let me tell you one good thing. Remember that nice man who changed seats? That left us an empty seat in our row and it was right there between Gma and I. So, we had a place to put the kids if needed. We also had the floor, on which we could put blankets.

So, how was this flight? If needed, please scroll back to Day 1 and my rant about the cribs. Let us just say, these kids, especially Grace, do not sleep well without the defined space for sleeping. At certain points, Gma was able to cajole each of them into a short nap, Jack longer than Grace, but in the last four hours I spent the entire time holding a very tired, very fussy, very squirmy Grace Elizabeth McGrath. I hate to admit, but I find that, in times of utter exhaustion, I find that my temper is very short. I found myself getting very angry at this little girl as she whined and squirmed across the Atlantic Ocean. I felt really guilty as I kept remembering what we were putting these poor kids through, but in my exhaustion I found myself wanted to scream. But, I held my temper and we continued on “the flight that wouldn’t end.” There were a few lulls when I was able to watch a video, but for most of it, I tried to entertain Miss Gracie. (I have now seen the first hour of I, Robot two times. I will have to rent it just to know what happens.)

One little thing I learned about myself on this flight – I am unable to change the diaper of a sideways child. I have always changed the kids standing or sitting at their feet. On the planes, I would sit a pad on the seat and kneel in front of them to change them. While I was doing this with Grace on this flight, a flight attendant let me know they had changing tables in one of the lavatories. So, when I needed to change one of Jack’s very-poopy diapers, I decided to take him to the changing table. What a disaster! He squirmed all over the place and, well, let us say, we got “stuff” everywhere. After finally getting him dressed, I washed down the changing table, washed my hands and returned to my seat. I made no other attempts to use the changing table.

Well, obviously it wasn’t really “the flight that wouldn’t end” because it did finally end. At 10:30 am CST, we touched down at O’Hare Airport in Chicago. At this point, Jack and Grace officially became U.S. Citizens. We packed up all our stuff and the kids (not in that order), and left the plane. The Embassy folks told us to carry the sealed envelopes in the open when we got to passport control. That would be a signal to them that they had an adoption case. I did this and all went smoothly. The nice lady at the window stamped our passport and customs form and had us wait to the side. Then she walked us into the immigration office and a very nice man opened our envelopes and processed our paperwork. I have no events to share on this experience.

After all this, we went to baggage claim and found our bags. We took them through customs and went to the counter to re-check them. As I mentioned before, we had a 5 hour lay-over in Chicago, but didn’t know how long the immigration process would take. (10 minutes) So, I planned to try to get us on an earlier flight. As I went to the counter, I asked if there were any earlier flights to Pittsburgh than the 4:10 flight. He answered, “That is the most asked question today. Sorry, the only other flight is 11:20 and it is too late for you to get on.” I did not get this gentleman’s name, but let us say I will try to be polite and just not describe him as “nice.” We re-checked our bags and processed to the Skyway to head to our terminal. As there was no gate on our tickets and no monitors to check, we assumed our flight was in Terminal One. As it would end up, that was true.

When we arrived at Terminal One, we checked the board and the 4:10 flight to Pittsburgh was not on the board yet. All they had were the sadly missed 11:20 flight and the 1:30 flight. For those of you reading this, let me say that nothing registered at this time. So, we asked someone what to do and they said to proceed through security and wait. Our flight would be posted when the gate was decided.

We proceeded through security – again, not an easy task with two infants – and plopped ourselves down in the lounge area for Gate B9. After a trip to the rest room and the purchase of cold drinks for Gma and me, I settled in the seat next to Gma. The kids were laid out on the floor sound a sleep. Suddenly, something registered in my mind – 1:30 flight to Pittsburgh. I ran back to the board and there it was – an earlier flight. I told Gma I was going to check on this flight, which, of course was in Concourse C and we were in Concourse B. I headed to Concourse B and found the scheduled gate for this flight.

At the gate, I spoke to the person at the counter about getting on the flight. She asked if we had bags checked on another flight and I said yes. She said we could probably get on the flight if they could pull our bags. She took my information along with a description of the bags and sent a message to the baggage people. She said we had plenty of time before the flight, so don’t rush back with the rest of the gang. I returned to Concourse B, where, of course, the kids were sleeping soundly. Gma and I decided to wait a little before waking them and I went to call Mary Jo with the potentially good news. She was at the store, but I left a message with her brother Kevin. Eventually, we gathered all our stuff and headed to the gate. It was a long distance, but luckily, most of it was on moving walkways. We got to the gate, where it seemed like we would be able to get on the flight, so I call Mary Jo to give her our arrival time. I returned to the counter and found that our bags had been “scanned on the next flight”, so they were not retrievable. Now, help me with this. Our next flight didn’t even have a gate yet, let alone a plane. How come they could not pull them to this flight? Well, I was informed that our plane did have a gate – Gate B9. (refer to the previous paragraph) Dejected, I explained that we had two children and my mother was 72 years old with a bum knee, so could they provide assistance for us back to the gate. They said they could get us a wheel chair, but then she couldn’t carry the baby. Does anyone know how people get on those cars packed with little old ladies that almost run over a hundred people each day in airports across the nation? So, I trudged back to Gma where I had to tell this wonderful, exhausted 72 year old lady that we had to walk back to the originally gate where she had efficiently setup shop an hour earlier. The look on her face broke my heart. I also called Mary Jo, but will not repeat her comments as this is a family show.

We drug ourselves back to Gate B9 and settled in with 2 hours to wait. Of course, any possibility of getting the kids back to sleep went out the window. I have to say, I had no idea what was keeping Grace standing. She honestly had about 5 hours sleep in the past 40 hours, but she was still going. We waited until the plane was finally called board. Not yet beaten down, I still held that small glimmer of hope that I would hear, “and those people traveling with infants or in need of assistance…” Alas, that was not to happen here either. So, we boarded in the third group, dragging three bags and two children down a think aisle. I think I hit every single person on the way to the back. We settled into our seats – 16A and 16B – when we were told, of course, that we could not sit together with two infants. (Strike 3 for the reservation person) They were able to convince this very nice gentleman to give up his aisle seat to sit in a middle seat next Gma and I settle into my new seat. At last, Grace fell asleep in my arms in utter exhaustion. I sat in the seat dozing off; when the nice gentleman woke me for fear that Grace would fall out of my arms. I struggled to stay awake until we took off, when I could put the seat back and lay Grace on my chest. Gma was able to lean against the window with Jack on her shoulder and they both slept. The rest of the flight went quickly with no events.

After the plane landed in Pittsburgh, we waited until everyone else deplaned and then gathered our things and headed to baggage claim. Gma, God lover her, was barely standing, so I took both kids and we shuffled toward the trams. We boarded the tram where everyone cooed over the babies and offered their seats. I declined, not being sure whether I would be able to get back up. When we reached the end, I handed Jack to Gma and we headed down the escalator to baggage claim. I once said, my only goal in life was to get off a plane and have a person standing there with a sign with my name on it. (OK, I don’t a lot of ambition.) Anyway, at the bottom, we walked to the baggage claim and there waiting for us were practically the entire Post and McGrath Pittsburgh clans, all holding signs that said “McGrath.” It was a picture to make a tired traveler cry. They all gathered around us, while many hugs and kisses were exchanged. We were escorted to baggage claim where we could sit while others attempted to find our bags. I was sure our bags would not have made it as that would have been a fitting end to our trip, but lo and behold, our bags arrived and we headed to the cars for the trip home.

The kids had their first trip in a car seat on the way home. I had predicted that Jack would take to the seat and fall fast asleep, but Grace would be fussy. Well, on this particular trip, the opposite was true. Jack was so tired, that he screamed for half the trip until he finally settled down and slept. Grace slept the whole trip.

At home, we tried to feed the kiddies, but there was minimal success. The children were just exhausted. So we changed them and put them off to bed. We settled down for a small celebration and some good food to eat. Gma and I were both able to sit down and relax, a long, eventful adventure brought to completion. I eventually went to bet around 10:30 that night, 32 hours after we got up on that same Saturday. As the singer once sang, “What a long, strange trip it’s been…”