So there is this law that applies to all non-European Union (EU) citizens traveling to EU countries. It basically states that you can stay for 3 months as a traveler in the country, and after that, you must get some kind of visa to stay longer, or you must return home. You should know that I was quickly approaching my 3 month limit as I headed to London for the weekend; but fret not, dear friends and family, I am in the process of getting my visa and at this point everything is progressing nicely, although there was a bit of a scare in London.
I should have known something like this would happen, either because of the timing of my trip, or because my day leading up to my arrival in London was awful. I got such a great deal on my flight (less that $100 roundtrip) but I was flying out of an airport that is a little out of the way to get to...the trip involves a car, then train, then bus...I wish that were a joke. Anyways, D kindly drove me to the train station where I waited patiently in the freezing temperatures for a train that never came. There was some kind of message on the time board, but it was in German, so I didn't understand all of it. I knew enough German to know my train wasn't coming, and that the next train would be 10 minutes late. Why? I don't know. Well the 10 minute late train ended up being 15-20 minutes late. I had originally allotted myself 1 hour and 10 minutes at the airport, with each passing minute I was calculating the latest time I could catch my bus and still make my flight.
So I finally arrived in Mainz to catch my bus, only to find the last bus left about 8 minutes ago. Just my luck. I did the most logical thing I could think of at that point, I threw a mini hissy fit and then called my mommy. (Yes, I am a 22 year old, living abroad, who still relies on her mother). After calming down and talking to my mom, I headed up to customer service and explained, in a combination of broken German and English, my situation. They were so helpful, let me tell you! Want to know what they told me?? "We have no control of this. Sorry." Wait, what?!?! You have no control of the public transportation system that you are an employee of? You can't offer me an alternative route to get me to my destination on time? You can't even tell me why this happened? Ok, great, you have a wonderful day too..not.
So then I called D back and politely begged him to come pick me up and bring me to the airport, all the while knowing that he has a huge exam this weekend he is trying to study for while simultaneously watching J&L until B comes back in town. He offers help find a solution and calls me back in 10 minutes to tell me that Opa (B's stepdad) will come pick me up and bring me to the airport. I thank him profusely and try to relax, a little. I should tell you that I am at least an hour from the airport and my plane is supposed to take off in about 75 minutes. Yikes.
You should also know that Opa does not speak a word of English. Not one word. And his accent is difficult for me to understand, I probably understand about 30% of what he says. Awesome. So I wait for Opa, and he finally gets to the airport, and we literally have about 65 minutes. Thank goodness for the autobahn and it's lack of speed limits (although if I had been driving, I guarantee we would have gotten there about 10 minutes earlier..I like to drive fast..).
I am literally silent the whole drive because I am freaking out about missing my flight and ruining my weekend in London that I have been looking forward to for so long! We made it to the airport approximately 8 minutes before my flight was supposed to take off and there is a huge line at my airline's check-in desk (I can't skip this because they have to stamp the passes for all non-EU citizens). So I go to the end of the line to patiently wait my turn, but Opa runs to the front, I'm assuming he explains my situation, and ushers me to the front of the line where my visa is promptly stamped and I literally run through security and then onto the plane. I got on the plane about 1 minute before it was supposed to take off. Thanks to D, Opa, and London weather for causing delays! I was finally able to breathe!!
The flight was super quick and even thought the plane took off a few minutes late (again, thank goodness!!) we still landed about 5 minutes early. I got off the plane and headed through the airport to the customs for non-EU citizens. As I previously stated, I was quickly approaching my 3 month anniversary in Germany; meaning I need to get a visa or get out! Good thing I'm working on getting my visa, huh? Anyways, so I wait patiently in a ridiculously long line and only two agents were working--who is in charge of these kinds of things? They should be fired. When it was finally my turn, I walked confidently to the open counter, even though I was terrified they would ask me something and I would answer wrong and get in big, big, BIG trouble.
At first it was all peachy, she was very friendly and conversational. But then I told her I had been in Germany for almost 3 months. That's when things got a little intense. The agent-lady then re-asked me every question she already asked me and quite a few more. I felt like she was trying to trick me into making a mistake or giving different, conflicting answers. I felt like everyone behind me in line was staring at me and listening to our exchange. I'm sure it was my imagination though. The longer I stood there, more customs agents came over and a few feet behind the desk I was at and began to whisper. I'm sure that was not my imagination. How rude! I was just trying to concentrate on staying calm and answering all the questions the way I am supposed to (this technically involves lying, but I've been told this is ok when traveling because it is too difficult to explain that I am working on getting my visa, therefor I can work in Germany. Not to mention all the paperwork I would have to carry around. I'm getting confused just thinking about it. Not gonna happen). She finally let me go with a warning; "Better get this taken care of when you get back to Germany." Scary.
Walking out of customs I was so thankful that I wasn't deported. Never, in a million years, would I have ever thought I would utter those words, or in this case, write them on the internet. Now that I was in the UK I had to get to Liverpool Street Station in downtown London. Lucky for me, there is a train that runs from my airport to the station. Problem is, when I went to buy my ticket from the computer kiosk; they wanted me to pay 175 Pounds (roundtrip). No. Freaking. Way. I thought about buying it, but it was more than two of my plane tickets. Since there was no line at the customer service desk, I went to pay there, just incase I did something wrong. Funnily enough, it turns out I did, the ticket was actually less than 30 Pounds. I have no idea what ticket I almost bought, but I'm glad I asked for help!
This whole day was seriously a bad joke that I wanted to end. When I finally met up with my mom's friend D (not to be confused with host father D) I was so relieved because I knew I was one step closer to a warm bed and a good night's sleep. We navigated the tube back to our hotel. Don't worry, in keeping with the theme of the day, it was eventful. First we got on the wrong tube, then we got on the right tube going in the wrong direction. We finally found the right tube going in the right direction, but it was about to leave, we ran towards the closest open door and D made it in and as the door was closing I put my suitcase up thinking the doors would reopen with the resistance. Nope. They clamped my suitcase in a deathgrip. It could have been worse, the doors could have closed on me. Anyways, we stood there in shock and waited for the doors to reopen. I had horrible visions of the tube taking off without me but with my suitcase; finally, after what seemed like forever they opened and we were on our way.
I hate to disappoint you, but that was the end of my crazy, ridiculous, stressful, insane, heart attack-inducing day. No more laughing at my expense. Oh, but I forgot to mention that the day before I left for London I tried a new workout and my quads/glutes (hahaha) were so sore that simple tasks like sitting down and standing up were 100x more taxing than they normally were. So, yeah. NOW there will be no more laughing at Rachel. We stopped to get some dinner, since I hadn't eaten since the train station seven hours ago (it felt like 70 hours). Then it was back to the hotel and sleep time.
Ok, sorry that was so long but it was kind of necessary. Coming up tomorrow: London: A Photo Story.
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