You Win Some, You Lose Some

Since my last post, a lot of things have occurred, namely fights. With whom, do you ask? A lot of people, namely all who I've talked to from British airways (including the imaginary people in my nightmares following the trek home).

Here's how it all went down:

I wake up at 4:30 am the day of my original flight to find out I do not have a flight home. I try calling from 5 am until midnight to change and/or get reimbursed but the operator told me to go online they were too busy, and the webmaster wrote for us to call the airline. Thank you British Airways #1. I search for three hours for a new flight home and went with Opodo. I feel relieved, for the moment anyways. That night, I go to check-in and online it says that my flight may be cancelled. I call Opodo; they are closed. I call Continental Airlines, also closed. I Skype my sister to ask her to call Continental. "She's on the list." Okay then, I'll just check-in the old-fashioned way at the airport. The next day, we call Opodo for 1 1/2 straight on the way to Geneva (to double-check my flight) and no one answers. We arrive at Geneva, I get in line for check-in and the Hell begins. First, I am told I have a valid confirmation but Opodo never confirmed with Continental. Okay, I'll wait for the supervisor. I wait, and wait, and wait. Thirty minutes later and fifteen or so people already confirmed before me who were on stand-by, the supervisor arrives.  
You have no seat and your name is not on our list.
We explain how we called Continental and they said I was.
Well, you're not. I have one open seat but you have to buy it through Lufthansa or United Airlines. Hurry back.
Great. We run over to United and a sign explains that it is closed from  9:30 untill 11:45. What time is it? 9:40. We run over to Lufthansa and explain our situation.
Yes there is a seat but it's first-class.
How much? Oh you know, 3,850 euros. And the waterworks begin and I start stuttering in my French. She tells me to go to British Airways.
For what? They canceled my flight too, I mutter.
They might give you an exchange, she says.
We go to British Airways and the time is 10:30. The flight I'm trying to catch leaves at 11:40. After waiting and crying and realizing I'm probably not going home, we are being helped.

The crazy thing is all Remy did was explain the situation. No bitchy attitude like Americans do to make it all happen. Just told the guy, You canceled her flights, she wants to get home to see her Mommy, can you give us the seat the man at Continental is holding for us?  
SHIZZAM, ticket printed.

We run up to Continental and butt in the line. Oh but one more thing, my luggage. It's full of presents, and hence, quite heavy. I tell him,  I don't care, I'll pay whatever, I just want to get home.
It's 200 dollars. 
I DON'T CARE. And then, all of my cards seem to fail in the land of neutrality. Great. My French family decides to be amazing once again.
Then, in English, I'm giving you a window seat.
Okay thanks, but seriously? You could have spoken English to me the whole time when you saw my passport the first time.

I get into security and another "Oh crap moment." The line is around the corner and I have a half hour to run to my plane. After waiting impatiently, I'm through. Then, the idiot I am, decides to turn left. After sprinting past Rolex watches, chocolate, and liquor galore, I get to the boarding area. Breathing heavily, I hear the girl in front of me say, I hope there's alcohol on this flight.
Without even thinking, I mutter, Yeah because I sure as hell need a drink right now. She turns around and smiles. You're French is really good! I say thanks and start screaming in my head, I'M GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!

You thought that was the end?

Well it gets a bit better. I sit next to this lovely middle-aged man who is probably thinking I'm insane as I'm muttering to myself in French trying to shove my stuff into the overhead compartments. We exchange travel stories, work situations, and the usual how are you conversation. Diagonally to my left, is another story. A pathetic man who drinks multiple bottles of wine and liquor. In my book, drinking the free booze is fine. Drinking to get drunk, ALONE, and paying $7 for each 3 oz bottle is stupid and quite pathetic. Had I known he was going to be a douche-bag, I would have avoided looking at his bottle collection the first time. Example of douche-bag-ness #1, reaching over to my armrest to try and turn on my reading light after I tell him I can see just fine and everyone's sleeping so I don't want to disturb them. #2, taking off his alligator boots and propping his feet up in front of him. #3, trying to take my trash so he can throw it up into first class. My response? I can throw it out when the stewardess comes back.
No no, let's give first class a present. The stewards get free money. They don't work. Let's help them learn to pick up trash.
I practically had to sit on my damn trash to get him to leave me alone. A variety of things that I really wanted to say: You work for your Mommy and Daddy, dontcha? Aw, how sweet. The gel in your hair makes you look like a sleazeball and my gut instinct confirms that. Your Alligator boots are not sexy and you look frumpy.  You're one reason why I don't miss America that much; there's too many people out there like you.

The rest of the trip was a breeze. Customs didn't take any of my presents, on the way to Philly I met a famous basketball player (well for you 76ers fans out there), and my mom was waiting for me with her Elf ears.

Getting back to France has been fun too. I called British Airways every day, was put on hold, told to call back, transferred to another company (likely in India considering the accent), and told I couldn't be helped. After being told I would have to pay a $262 fee for changing the day/location of my flight, I fought. I fought with the operator, her supervisor, and his supervisor.  From now on, I will never give up a fight, especially when it saves me money that I shouldn't have to pay to begin with. The flights were a breeze, the train was another story. As soon as I told the conductor I bought my ticket through SNCF (the French train company), I was told, That wasn't a good idea.
I had to walk around the train station and across several streets with my JustMySize suitcase and bags to find the SNCF office. After waiting thirty minutes, I had to pay another fee just to get my ticket (although it's free in France). Thanks for the warning online, SNCF! A train ride through the Alps and a crowded metro home, and here I am (back in my pig pen bed without my snuggly cat.)

All in all, I'm so grateful I was able to get home and see my family and friends. I had a wonderful time and it helped refresh my spirits for the next 6 months. I have a ton left to say, but you'll have to wait until next time.

Nighty night dear reader!