Tales of an Orchestra Den Mother | Part 2, The Romance of Commercial Flying

 Risk Assessment

The positive Covid-19 test was Kristy's. 

She had been battling a sinus infection in previous weeks, routinely testing negative for the pandemic du jour. When symptoms recurred earlier in the week, we all ascribed it to a relapse with the most significant fallout being that Kristy was banished to the living room couch where she could sleep upright without waking me. 

We were on day five since her symptoms recurred. Although we worried that The Bear and I might develop symptoms on the trip, our relatively low exposure to Kristy, the amount of time elapsed since she became symptomatic, and the negative test results all suggested that we were at a relatively low risk of carrying Covid to Europe.

Considering all of that, we decided that The Bear and I would go. Without Kristy, it occurred to me that my responsibilities for the Hogwarts students (and to their parents) were increased significantly.

Fortunately, we were in for a wonderful journey through eastern Europe. 

However, as described in this installment, getting there was not enjoyable.

Saturday, April 16: Toronto's Interminable Terminal

The sidewalk in front of Hochstein was a chaotic scene that morning as 120 travelers parted with those parents and family not travelling with us. Kristy remained home and The Bear and I were fortunate to get a ride with Luke's family. (Thanks, Ryan and Rachel!) Our tour group was split across two buses and we counted off with numbers that we would keep throughout Europe to ensure that no one was left behind.

The Bear and Izzy waiting to board a bus.

Aside from a form in a smartphone app ("ArriveCAN") that had to be completed attesting that travelers were vaccinated and had no Covid-19 symptoms, the actual land border crossing into Canada was a non-issue. (We would later need to use the same app when flying to Canada to tour the Diamond Aircraft factory in May)

It was upon arrival to Toronto that our travel experience veered abruptly toward the unpleasant.

The Bear and Izzy on the bus to Toronto.

Despite checking in together, Lufthansa chose not to give The Bear, Izzy, and I seats together. The Bear was in the same row as me, but on the opposite side of the 747-400 with the entire center section between us. Izzy's ticket placed her in the middle of the row behind us. 

Luke, who made a last minute restroom stop, was the last HYSO musician to make it through check-in.

We waited an unbelievable 1.5-2 hours to get through security in what was easily the least efficient security operation I had ever witnessed in my years of international travel. Few lanes were open and, by my estimation, nearly half of the passengers were subjected to secondary screening. Several of the HYSO kids had their instruments yanked from cases and manhandled by security. Izzy and The Bear were appalled as they watched a Toronto security agent carelessly shake another student's violin. My bag, which contained a CPAP machine and The Bear's peanut immunotherapy medication, was also selected for additional screening.

Mark and Dena among the parents waiting for busses to roll out from Hochstein.

Emerging from security, the three of us attempted to find our gate. I have travelled around the world and navigated many commercial airports for years without a problem. The signage in Toronto is the absolute worst I have ever encountered. At one point, we were directed down a blind alley by a sign that, in hindsight, had been moved to block an out of service moving sidewalk and was no longer pointing in the correct direction. It did not help that all three of us were hungry and cranky as lunchtime had come and gone without any opportunity to eat.

Eventually, we walked the length of the terminal and reached a final passport control area standing between us and our gate. Each passenger was required to scan their passport at one of several kiosks before being allowed to proceed. Mine scanned without a problem. So did The Bear's. Izzy's kiosk threw up a huge red "X".

We scanned her passport again, making sure that it was correctly aligned and pressed flush against the glass. Another "X". We moved to a second machine and tried again, only to receive a third "X". At this point, the security officer in the area intervened.

"After three tries, you need to leave the secure area and talk to Customs," she informed us. I looked at my watch, then back at the agent in disbelief. Our flight was scheduled to depart in an hour and we already knew how long it took to get through security.

"We don't have time for that. We'll miss our flight," I told her and received a shrug in response. 

Keeping my passport and boarding pass, I handed my backpack to The Bear and sent her on to the gate without us. My bag contained her peanut medication and other items likely to get flagged for follow-up screening. If we had to come back through security, I wanted to pass through as quickly as possible. Belatedly, I realized that my wallet and phone were also inside the backpack where I had stowed them for passage through security the first time around. If the flight left without us, we were in trouble.

Izzy and I retraced our steps along the length of the interminable terminal to reach customs. The area we entered was intended to process arrivals to Toronto. Bypassing all the kiosks, I led Izzy directly to an officer waiting at the opposite side of the customs area. As I handed him our passports he asked, "Where are you arriving from?"

"Um. Here?" 

Not surprisingly, he looked confused. I explained our situation. 

"Are you her father?" 

Oh boy.

"No," I answered, envisioning a morass of red tape suddenly enveloping us.

He checked Izzy's passport and deemed it to be perfectly acceptable. Then he saved the day by personally escorting us back to the passport control area near our gate so that we did not have to make a repeat foray through security. I am convinced that a second trip through security would have caused us to miss our flight.

"Does this kind of passport issue happen often?" I asked him.

"Third time this week," answered the agent. That did not inspire confidence.

As we power-walked the length of the international terminal, now for the fourth time, the customs officer made light conversation by asking typical customs questions about where we were going and what we would do there. Izzy explained the HYSO tour, to which the officer responded with a very genuine, "That's really cool! What are you playing?"

Here, Izzy faltered. "Tchaikovsky," she offered a bit more tentatively than I would have expected.

"What piece?" asked the agent. Izzy blanked and I was not familiar enough with the repertoire to rescue her. Oh boy, I thought again. It seemed like one of those moments that would rouse the officer's suspicion. To my surprise, it didn't. He delivered us to the passport control area, reuniting us with the security agent that turned us back in the first place. With the customs officer vouching for Izzy, we were allowed to proceed. When we passed through the portal into the gate area, it was like completing a level of an overly complicated video game.

The Bear was waiting for us, none the worst for wear after falling on the stairs while trying to carry my admittedly heavy backpack in addition to her own gear. I found myself in line with The Bear, Izzy, Luke, and Gabe for a last minute meal in the food court before scrambling off to the gate.

Boarding was delayed, giving me a chance to catch my breath. As I scrolled through my email, a gentle voice interrupted my reverie.

"Excuse me, Mr. Responsible Adult, sir?" It was Luke, who explained that he was recovering from a cold, had run out of Kleenex, and was not sure where to buy more. I led Luke back toward a newsstand store I had passed earlier where he was able to purchase an overpriced packet of tissues. Shortly thereafter, we boarded our flight to Frankfurt.

Whew...

Sunday, April 16: Cold Chain Issues

Izzy waving from her seat on the 747.

Though I was excited to fly on an iconic Boeing 747 for the first time, this delight was counterbalanced by annoyance over being separated from The Bear by the width of the entire passenger cabin. Mine was a bulkhead seat positioned between a new mother with babe in arms and Sarah, another HYSO parent. At least I could see Izzy in the row behind mine.

In planning for the trip and strategizing how to keep The Bear's peanut protein medication cold, we enclosed it in a small insulated case with two cold packs of a volume below the 3.5 oz liquids and gels cut-off. This was per airline recommendation. While that was an adequate solution for the bus ride, it was time to move the medicine to a longer term cold storage solution for the trans Atlantic flight. Internet research indicated that airlines will store passenger items in aircraft refrigeration units as needed. I flagged down a flight attendant to get that process started.

"Oh, we cannot do that anymore," she explained in German-accented English. Her solution was to supply me with an airsick bag filled with ice to which I transferred the medication. She also moved me to an aisle seat farther back along the fuselage where I had far less legroom, but there was a place to stow my backpack.

The fundamental problem with the flight attendant's solution to my refrigeration problem was that airsick bags are uninsulated. In short order, I found myself holding a very cold bag of ice water. For six hours. In the darkness over the Atlantic Ocean, I wondered if my hands would ever be warm again. We changed melted ice out for fresh ice a couple of times throughout the night. Moreover, never having worn a mask for so many contiguous hours before, my ears started to bleed where the mask strings had rubbed them raw. 

It was probably just as well that I can't sleep on airliners anyway.

We saw the sun rise from tens of thousands of feet above the world and eventually descended into Frankfurt.

Sunday, April 17: Missing Children

I disembarked in dire need of visiting the restroom and found The Bear, Luke, and Izzy waiting for me in the gate area. I handed the makeshift medicine cooler to The Bear, excused myself to the restroom, and instructed the trio to stay put until I came back.

When I emerged from the restroom, they were nowhere to be seen.

Oh boy.

Whirling around, I caught sight of the tail end of our group marching toward the next gate. Fortunately, we were all wearing the same t-shirts, which made the HYSO folks easy to spot. Shouldering my backpack, I hurried off after the bigger group that I assumed included The Bear, Izzy, and Luke.

It didn't. I sent Izzy a text, "Where are you?" No response.

I was caught in a gaggle of HYSO travelers that went through another passport control area that led into another security area where carryon items went back through an x-ray machine. I began to worry when I realized that The Bear was walking around with a bag of ice water of a volume that surely violated the rules about liquids at airport security checkpoints.

Oh boy. It was becoming a refrain.

Izzy finally responded that they were still in the arrival gate area. How had I missed them?! I urged her to gather The Bear and Luke and hurry to the next gate. Day two of the trip and I've already lost three of them! Epic fail. Commentary much stronger than "oh boy" floated through my internal dialogue.

I waited for them on the other side of the security checkpoint, prepared to intervene if anyone gave The Bear grief for her medication in its ridiculous provisional "cooler". Finally, the Hogwarts trio appeared. Expeditiously, The Bear propped her open sick sack of ice water in a corner of the tray, buttressed it with her backpack, and ran it through the machine. To my surprise, no one said a word.

We hustled to the next gate, clambering down a set of stairs, through a tunnel under the parking apron, and back up several flights of stairs to the departure terminal. We were late for the connecting flight to Berlin, but Lufthansa held it for us. The Bear, Luke, Izzy, and I were among the last of the HYSO group to board the plane. Fortunately, The Bear and I were able to sit together. We swapped out the sack of ice water for a new one with fresh ice and I prepared The Bear's morning dosage by dispersing a pre-weighed aliquot of peanut powder into yogurt that we brought with us. We call it a "peanut smoothie". Yum.

Sunday, April 17: Arrival in Bear-lin

In Berlin, I reconnected with the rest of the Hogwarts kids as well as Yana and Zhenya (Gabe's parents). I sent a picture of Izzy and The Bear to Kristy, Dena, and Mark with a comment, "We made it!" I made no mention of almost losing them in Frankfurt. Dena responded in kind with a picture of her delivering food to my ailing wife at home.

Similarly, Luke's parents were pleased to receive objective evidence that their young world traveler made it to our destination. 

Roughly 19 hours had elapsed since we departed Hochstein the previous day. While that seems like a long period of time, it was also too short an interval to adequately contain so many near disasters. Improved autonomy is a big component of why I like to travel in my own airplane. Of course, for a journey like this, only a commercial carrier will do.

At the airport, we boarded two touring coaches, divided in the same way we were for the bus ride to Toronto. As expected, the coach had a refrigerator available and we were finally able to ditch the airsick bags.

Welcome to Berlin! From here, our adventure improved significantly!