Well, I’m home. And not a moment too soon, either.
It took over 24 hours of travel, but I made it home in one piece. My bag, alas, did not, but with all the adventures in airlining, I didn’t really expect it to. Hopefully I’ll get it tomorrow or the next day.
Early AM departure
My long journey home began when we got into taxis yesterday around midnight for the airport. Five of us were on the same flight, so we split the fare. Arrival and check-in went fine, customs and immigration exiting Uzbekistan were — contrary to what I’d been warned about — a breeze, and I enjoyed the most expensive beer of my trip at the small bar near the gate and made friends with some German-speaking vodka fans from Kazakhstan while waiting for our 3am departure.
The flight was delayed, though, by a little over an hour. I knew this meant I probably wouldn’t make my tight connection in Istanbul, but by the time we took off around 4:30 am, I was too tired to care. I shrugged and went to sleep, figuring that I’d sort it out when I landed.
Turkish Airlines clusterfuck
We landed in Istanbul about an hour late, and by the time we exited the plane got the shuttle bus to the terminal, it was an hour and a half after we were supposed to arrive. I tried to make a run for it, but I knew it was a lost cause. Sure enough, I got to the security control for transfer gates to see my next flight up on the screen as “closed”. Yep, saw that one coming.
So far, this is all pretty standard stuff when you travel. Flights are late sometimes; usually it’s no big deal. I went to the transfer desk, figuring they’d rebook me on some other route home (there are dozens) and that would be that.
What I didn’t count on was the sheer total and utter incompetence of the Turkish Airlines staff. This is an airline that markets itself as number one in Europe. I don’t know what they did to earn that rating, but in my (admittedly limited) experience, nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t even know how to begin describing the clusterfuck that was the transfer desk. There were hundreds of people there — some for hours, some since yesterday, even — and they were all pushing, shoving and crowding around the desk trying to be heard. The staff were all standing around three or four to a counter, but none of them were serving any customers. They just kept saying “wait, wait” to all the passengers who were asking questions. None of the staff appeared to be able to actually rebook a missed flight or issue a new boarding pass. Which, of course, is the entire purpose of the transfer desk. Which begs the question of what exactly they were doing there.
To make a long story short, I eventually got re-booked on a flight leaving later today via Toronto. It took over an hour and a half and a lot of chasing down of various staff members to get my new boarding passes, and they never did manage to re-route my checked bag, even though they told me they would.
While I was waiting, I did pull a few ninja moves and managed to score myself not only the standard meal voucher, but also free lounge access. That meant food, drinks, a comfortable place to sit, and — most importantly — free WiFi, which is something that isn’t available anywhere else in Istanbul’s supposedly award-winning airport. I got all of these by asking not at the transfer desk from hell, but at the mystical “gate 215” customer service desk, where the only competent Turkish Airlines agents apparently work. Next time, I’ll know to bypass the transfer desk and go straight there.
That is, assuming there is a next time with Turkish Airlines, which will probably happen sometime after hell freezes over.
The long way home
My flight to Toronto was — surprise, surprise — delayed. But at that point, it didn’t really matter. I waited it out in comfort in the lounge, with plenty of fresh espresso and cookies.
Then, the eleven-hour flight to Toronto, which was pretty uneventful after all that drama. I had a bulkhead exit row seat with lots of legroom, and the screaming babies even quieted down for a few hours. I dozed on and off, watched a movie (appropriately enough, Tracks), picked at the food, and tried not to think about how many hours I’ve been awake.
Arrival in Toronto around six, and the annoying wait for my bag that, not surprisingly, didn’t show up because it hadn’t been re-rerouted in Istanbul after all. Yeah, I didn’t think it would. Oh well, there’s nothing in it but laundry anyway. Then, over to domestic departures, where Air Canada got me on an earlier connecting flight, and managed to print my new boarding pass instantly, I might add.
I got home to Montreal shortly after nine, and we dodged all the road closures to get home from the airport. Construction season in Montreal is alive and well, I see; my street appears to have been dug up since I left. Thanks, M. Ferrandez.
I had that post-travel moment where nothing in my apartment felt familiar when I first walked in, which is something that usually goes away after a few hours. I drank a big glass of water from the tap (’cause I CAN) and took a luxuriously long and hot shower, and now I plan to pretty much collapse straight into bed. After all, I only have a few short hours until my alarm wakes me up for work tomorrow. Yep, I’ve left the Silk Road behind and I’m firmly back in the real world.
Mais voyons donc, it’s good to be home.
Next up: Silk Road in review.