From Frankfurt

Just a jump, hop, and skip over the great big pond...

When Mom called me to say it was starting to get cloudy I thought nothing of it, until we were waiting in line to depart with oh you know 15 other planes waiting ahead of us for the thunderstorm clouds to pass on by. Despite those extra 40 minutes, we still managed to make it on time.

My Dad also told me that Frankfurt Airport was huge. Again, I took it into consideration, but figured I could manage. When your carrying 2 twenty pound carry on bags waiting in line for security, it's a different story. The only other time I've been in a line that long and sweated that much was waiting for the rollercoaster in King's Dominion in the midst of a heat wave. Then, when I finally made it to the front of the line (and remembered to take my lap top AND belt out/off unlike in Philly), my body scan fails. In comparison to the USA security, they don't tell you to take off your shoes (which ended up being the thing that made the scanner go off) and they give you a full on pat down that you might have enjoyed if it weren't from the same sex. Nonetheless, I made it through and then came the fun part.

We all know majority of Americans are overweight and now I know exactly why! We have escalators, elevators, and the moving sidewalks (which I admit I would love to have in my future house just for mere ridiculous décor). Here in Frankfurt, you use steps. Five flights of steps upstairs, one mile to the gate and then you have to do the typical Katie and realize you left your boarding pass in Security (I want to believe the lady patting me down took it, but it definitely wasn't in my passport in my bag when I went to open it at the bathroom). Luckily, a lovely group of Washingtonians noticed my sweaty forehead, pale face, and omgwhatthehellamigoingtodo/wherethehelldidmyboardingpassgo look and offered to watch my bags. I left my book bag and took a chance by asking one of the other Lufthansa check-in assistants what to do. She barely looked at my passport, continued to joke to her co-worker in German, and merely handed me a new pass no questions ask. This is when I realized A) I really need to learn German so I know what they're laughing about B) I like some Americans.

I immediately thanked the Washingtonians, chatted them up for a while (they're on their way to Greece for a 2 week vacation), and headed off to find a snack.

Now, let me say, I've officially had a German “Bretzel,” but as healthy as they taste, Philly wins this war hands down, no questions asked.

On that note, Marissa you owe me big time sista. Not only am I so sick I can't hear anything (even if I don't understand the language, at least I could have pretended to evesdrop), I also have Rudolph Red Nose and I'm not even there yet! I've gone through all my tissues and I feel like someone hit me in the face with a shovel. And alas, I find Orange Juice at a vendor, and guess how much it costs? Guess riss! Freaking 4 euros for a damn 3 ounces. That mean's I'd spend like $25 if I wanted to buy an actually serving size. And not only that, it's not yummy Minute Maid. No no, it's pulp infested OJ. So thanks, all the people around me glare at me for my germs and all I thought on the first plane was, “God, I can't wait to use my damn netty pot.” Hear that riss? (end rant).

Anyways, that's all folks. Talk to you when I land in Lyon.

Bises/Kisses.