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I'll Be Home For Christmas
Dec. 27th, 2010 07:54 amChristmas back home was wonderful, though we experienced a few setbacks. Originally, my plan was to only take half a day off work, leaving (and arriving) on Christmas Eve. Then I thought that that would be cutting it close, and that it would be better to leave on the 23rd, just in case there were any delays. B2, who was in Europe, was also supposed to arrive that same evening at roughly the same time I would, but in Montreal, so he'd arrive two hours later by bus.
My flights went as planned, with no delays, and I was in Ottawa by half past six.
B2, however... landed in Montreal at 2:30 p.m. on Christmas day. Originally, he was supposed to fly from Berlin to Munich, then from there to Montreal. As you may have heard, much of Europe has been thrown into chaos by the weather, which my brother said in most places was a joke (but it seems that Paris can't handle half an inch of snow), and his first flight was delayed, but he did manage to get to Munich, which was good because since he was officially in transit, the airline had to feed him and put him up in hotels.
So here's what happened to him:
He got to Munich late, but might have made his connection, except a security agent searched his carry-on bag three times, in the process damaging his gift for our mother. By the time he made it to the gate, they had already closed the doors. So he went and stood in a long line of people who had also missed their flights, waited for hours, and was finally told that he could get a flight to Zurich, and from there to Chicago the next day, and from there they'd get him to Montreal. They put him up in an airport hotel, and the next morning, he went back to the terminal and stood in line some more.
He made it to Zurich, then waited... and waited... and waited... and finally was on a plane to Chicago. By now it was late on the 24th. He'd been keeping us updated via phone and email, and called from Chicago on Christmas Eve to tell us that *fingers crossed* he'd be in Montreal the next day.
He finally got the airline to give him a hotel room in Chicago, and he also got a $45 meal voucher, but he said the cheapest thing on the dinner menu still came up to almost $30, once you added tax and tip. And the cheapest thing on the breakfast menu was $17, so he couldn't even have breakfast before plodding back to the airport, early on Christmas morning. We were at Dorval to greet him (with a sign, even: Baron von Latefürchristmas) and then rushed home to open our presents, with a pit stop at what was supposed to be Tim Horton's, but ended up being Harvey's because Tim Horton's was closed. On Christmas Day! Can you believe it?!
My gifts included books (very thoughtfully chosen by both my brothers, though one is a hundred-pound thing that I have to lug back to Japan with me -- thanks, B1! XD;;;), money, a pair of lovely peridot earrings (real gold and everything, which means I now own actual jewellery!), and the usual stocking stuffers, though my mother got me tights instead of socks this year! I got the lucky gratteux (lottery ticket where you scratch off numbers/pictures) this year, though I only won $3; I'm pretty sure that ever since my mother started the tradition of giving each of us kids one of those in our stocking, twenty years ago, it's only happened once or twice that either none of us won anything, or more than one of us won something. Without fail, there's one lucky ticket, though none of us has ever won more than $20.
Since arriving, I've gotten to know the two new family cats, Merlin (a.k.a. Merlin le malin, Merlichon) and Beulah (a.k.a. Madame, Toutounnette), both lovely black cats with yellowish-green eyes. They're not related, but strangely enough, neither of them can meow properly. My parents got Merlin when he was a kitten, so he's presumably always been like that, but they adopted Beulah when she was about two years old, and think she might have been abused and so lost her meow at some point. Instead of meowing, she creaks, and Merlin makes this weird noise that sounds almost like a pigeon cooing.
I've been checking the forecast and so far, there doesn't seem to be much hope for a snowfall before I leave. Bloh! Oh well, at least there's snow on the ground.
A last thing I'd like to note is that I'm sitting here typing in nothing but a t-shirt, track pants and socks, and it's no doubt at least -10 outside, and the heater in this room isn't even on. And it's kind of surprising that when I turn on the cold water tap, the water that comes out is ice cold.
My flights went as planned, with no delays, and I was in Ottawa by half past six.
B2, however... landed in Montreal at 2:30 p.m. on Christmas day. Originally, he was supposed to fly from Berlin to Munich, then from there to Montreal. As you may have heard, much of Europe has been thrown into chaos by the weather, which my brother said in most places was a joke (but it seems that Paris can't handle half an inch of snow), and his first flight was delayed, but he did manage to get to Munich, which was good because since he was officially in transit, the airline had to feed him and put him up in hotels.
So here's what happened to him:
He got to Munich late, but might have made his connection, except a security agent searched his carry-on bag three times, in the process damaging his gift for our mother. By the time he made it to the gate, they had already closed the doors. So he went and stood in a long line of people who had also missed their flights, waited for hours, and was finally told that he could get a flight to Zurich, and from there to Chicago the next day, and from there they'd get him to Montreal. They put him up in an airport hotel, and the next morning, he went back to the terminal and stood in line some more.
He made it to Zurich, then waited... and waited... and waited... and finally was on a plane to Chicago. By now it was late on the 24th. He'd been keeping us updated via phone and email, and called from Chicago on Christmas Eve to tell us that *fingers crossed* he'd be in Montreal the next day.
He finally got the airline to give him a hotel room in Chicago, and he also got a $45 meal voucher, but he said the cheapest thing on the dinner menu still came up to almost $30, once you added tax and tip. And the cheapest thing on the breakfast menu was $17, so he couldn't even have breakfast before plodding back to the airport, early on Christmas morning. We were at Dorval to greet him (with a sign, even: Baron von Latefürchristmas) and then rushed home to open our presents, with a pit stop at what was supposed to be Tim Horton's, but ended up being Harvey's because Tim Horton's was closed. On Christmas Day! Can you believe it?!
My gifts included books (very thoughtfully chosen by both my brothers, though one is a hundred-pound thing that I have to lug back to Japan with me -- thanks, B1! XD;;;), money, a pair of lovely peridot earrings (real gold and everything, which means I now own actual jewellery!), and the usual stocking stuffers, though my mother got me tights instead of socks this year! I got the lucky gratteux (lottery ticket where you scratch off numbers/pictures) this year, though I only won $3; I'm pretty sure that ever since my mother started the tradition of giving each of us kids one of those in our stocking, twenty years ago, it's only happened once or twice that either none of us won anything, or more than one of us won something. Without fail, there's one lucky ticket, though none of us has ever won more than $20.
Since arriving, I've gotten to know the two new family cats, Merlin (a.k.a. Merlin le malin, Merlichon) and Beulah (a.k.a. Madame, Toutounnette), both lovely black cats with yellowish-green eyes. They're not related, but strangely enough, neither of them can meow properly. My parents got Merlin when he was a kitten, so he's presumably always been like that, but they adopted Beulah when she was about two years old, and think she might have been abused and so lost her meow at some point. Instead of meowing, she creaks, and Merlin makes this weird noise that sounds almost like a pigeon cooing.
I've been checking the forecast and so far, there doesn't seem to be much hope for a snowfall before I leave. Bloh! Oh well, at least there's snow on the ground.
A last thing I'd like to note is that I'm sitting here typing in nothing but a t-shirt, track pants and socks, and it's no doubt at least -10 outside, and the heater in this room isn't even on. And it's kind of surprising that when I turn on the cold water tap, the water that comes out is ice cold.
