“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”
— John Howard Payne

I’m home. I’ve had a good adventure abroad — I enjoyed the journey, I enjoyed the destination, and I enjoyed the return (except for the last leg of the trip being delayed). But I am happy to be home again.

Cowgrit and the boys met me at the airport, and it felt really good to be hugged by all three at the same time. It feels good to just be in my own home again.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I’m always very attentive and prompt when it comes to airports and air travel. I double check my flight numbers, the gates, the departure and arrival times, everything. I’ve never missed any of my 20 or 30 flight times over the years. Although, I have had a couple of close calls due to airlines changing things at the last minute. And that brings me to this screw up that sounds like it’s my fault, but I’m not taking any of the blame for this — this is strictly Continental Airlines being stupid.

I had a flight scheduled for 6:45 p.m. at gate C107. This was the flight to take me home to see Cowgrit and the Calves. I had checked the time and gate at least twice since arriving in terminal C (the last time around 6:00), and I was at the gate by 5:30 — over an hour early. I was sitting there reading a book waiting for boarding to start.

Eventually, the gate attendant announced boarding was starting. She talked so fast, and the overhead speaker system was so bad that I couldn’t clearly understand what she said. I got in line, but when I made it to the attendant, I discovered this wasn’t my flight. What?! Well, OK, I sat back down.

When the attendant closed the gate, I started thinking. There was no way they could get another plane up to this gate in time for the scheduled departure. So I went over to the monitors showing the departure list. My flight had been changed to gate C113. But there had been no announcement, no warning. Son of a . . . .

I went to gate C113. Soon the gate attendant announced that my flight was going to start boarding. She said for those needing assistance or extra time to board first. She said something more, but she talked so fast with a Spanish accent that I couldn’t understand everything. There were a lot of people sitting around the gate entrance, but none of them were going to the gate.

After a couple of minutes of no one boarding, the gate attendant announced for rows 10 to 24 to begin boarding. I was in row 2 (two; I double checked my ticket). Well, maybe they were loading the plane from the back to the front. I had heard of that kind loading before.

I stood about 20 feet from the gate watching the first load of passengers go through the doors. As the last 3 people in the line finished, I expected to hear the attendant announce boarding for rows 1 through 9. There were several more people in the seats for the gate, and I assumed they were waiting, like me, for our rows to be called.

As soon as the last of the people for rows 10-24 went through the gate, the attendant went through, too. She was gone. There were a couple other workers at the counter beside the gate, and I thought either they’d step up or the other woman would return.

I waited about 60 seconds (no longer) and stepped up to the counter. “Can I board now?” I asked.

I was informed that boarding was finished. The plane was closed. WHAT!???!

Long story shortened: The Continental employees back at the check-in admitted that it was wrong and against procedures to close the plane 15 minutes early. The next flight to my home was 8:20 a.m. today. The airline set me up at a hotel, but my luggage (with clothes and toiletries) went out with the original flight.

I was so pissed at the time all this was happening, but I was also very tired — I had been awake for 18 hours, on an airplane or in an airport for about 14 of those hours, and I just wanted to get home. I managed to keep my cool, partially because that’s just my nature in situations like that, and partly because I was too damn exhausted to build up the energy to make scene right then.

But I will be letting Continental know my displeasure soon. They call it “missing your flight,” but this was definitely not my fault — this was being denied boarding my flight, because they closed the airplane 15 minutes early. Total bullshit.

Now I’m about to head back to the airport, in the same clothes I had been wearing for around 20 hours yesterday. At least I got a shower, but without my toiletries, I still feel dirty and look like a bum.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I got a good sampling of Swedish food this week. I’m not normally very adventurous when it comes to food — I’m a meat and potatoes man — but I didn’t want to visit a new land without being willing to try the food. (I won’t guarantee this feeling if I visit some place very exotic.)

Turns out Swedish food is not bad. In fact, I loved some items; some items were decent, but a bit different from what I’m used to. Surprisingly I didn’t really dislike any Swedish food. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the names of most of the items (and probably couldn’t spell the names even if I remembered them).

The following pictures are not all the meals I had — I forgot a few times — and some pictures were taken after I had already started eating — I almost forgot a few times.

The above was the Sunday breakfast served on the SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) flight on the approach to Copenhagen. Nothing unusual to an American, here, other than the white pudding-looking thing in the top left corner — I didn’t try it, so I don’t know what it was.

The above was dinner Monday night. Bean chilli, rice, bread, pasta, sliced ham, cold corn, and a piece of some kind of meat with red sauce.

The above was lunch Tuesday. Swedish meatballs with sauce and sweet lingomberry sauce (think cranberry sauce), boiled potatoes, salad, and bread. I loved this meal.

The above was Tuesday dinner. Sliced ham, warm mashed potatoes, cold corn, a bologna-like sausage covered with cheese and ketchup (the ketchup is part of the item — it was not my doing), a quarter bagel, and a cinnamon bread.

The above was Thursday lunch. Some kind of rice with beans, something I don’t remember, cold green beans, something I couldn’t identify, something Italian, something else I couldn’t identify, wild pig, and bread in the middle. Not pictured was my follow up taste of pancakes with lingomberry sauce and whipped cream — yum!

The above was Friday lunch. This meal was at an American-style sports bar. Cheeseburger, french fries, and a spicy sauce. I liked the sauce a lot, so I put it on my burger and I dipped my fries in it.

“What’s this sauce?” I asked my friends. “I like it, and it’s a bit spicy.”

My friends looked at each other a moment and then said, “It’s supposed to be American dressing.”

“Um, OK,” I said. “I have no idea what it is. It doesn’t taste like any American dressing or sauce I’ve ever had.”

We all got a good chuckle out of that.

The above was my Friday dinner. A nice hot cup of hot chocolate, free from the hotel bar. After so many full meals this week, I enjoyed just sitting in bed for a while and sipping on some hot chocolate. I’m not usually a big hot chocolate fan at home, but something about the cold of Sweden, and the really tasty chocolate in Sweden has given me a new outlook on the beverage.

* * *

Today is my flight back to the US. My flight leaves Copenhagen at around noon, and I finally arrive home at near 9:00 p.m. (that’s 2:00 a.m. Sweden time). So I probably won’t have a timely post on Sunday morning.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I went to a local mall after work to buy some gifts to take home from Sweden. I was curious how a Swedish mall looks compared to the US, and it turns out, they look pretty much exactly alike.

Most of the store names are unknown to me, but the look, the ambiance, the people inside are pretty much exactly like I’m used to in America. I walked around the corridors by myself just looking at everything, and aside from hearing the different language, I couldn’t tell I wasn’t at home.

I stopped in a candy store thinking I’d bring home some Swedish candy. About half the candy was the same as I’d find in the US, and the other half I couldn’t tell what it was. I picked up some gummi-type candy shaped like cars, for the boys, and took it to the counter.

“Hej,” said the clerk. [Hej = “Hey” = Hello.]

“Hej,” I said.

The clerk rang up the package of candy (20.00kr), and I paid with a 100kr bill. He gave me change and said, “Tack.” [Tack = Thank you.]

I said, “Tack. Hej då,” and walked out with the candy. [Hej då = Goodbye.]

Cool, I thought, I did that just fine. I had used about a third or half of the Swedish words I know in that short exchange, but I did fine for a first try.

The next store was a card shop. I looked around and found some greeting cards that looked cute and funny. (I don’t have a clue what they say, but they look nice.)

I took my picks up to the counter where a man and young girl stood ready to help me.

“Hej, hej,” the man said. He was very chipper, (he had already spoken to me while I was looking around), and smiling. The girl looked happy too, but she also had a look of being out of her element.

“Hej,” I said, and smiled, as I set the cards down.

The man helped the girl ring up the cards — although I couldn’t understand what they were saying back and forth, it was obvious he was training her on the register. They told me the price of my purchase, and I pulled out my plastic.

I swiped my card and prepared to enter my PIN. In the couple of previous times I’ve used my card, the display on the pad had the letters “PIN” among all the gibberish, so I knew to punch in my number. But this time there was no “PIN” anywhere on the display. The bottom line of the gibberish said, “Jibbä = Jåbba,” or something to that effect so far as I could tell.

Was something wrong? Was there an error? Did I need to swipe my card again? The smiling faces of the man and girl looked at me expectantly. Crap, I thought, I’m busted.

“Um,” I stammered, “I’m sorry, but I can’t read this.”

There was just a moment of a pause, then the man said, “Oh, just put in your PIN.”

“OK,” I said. “I was hoping to get through the purchase without revealing I wasn’t Swedish.”

They both laughed, and the man said, “You can’t get by us.” We all got a good, friendly chuckle at the situation. Then I waved, said, “Tack så mycket,” and left with my purchase. [Tack så mycket = Thank you very much.]

Thank goodness the Swedish not only know English so well, but they are so friendly and willing to speak in English for those of us who need them to. God bless ’em.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com