You know the song "I'll be home for Christmas"? A charming song by Elvis. I would like to add to that title: "I'll be home for Christmas-even if it fucking kills me!" In my last post I commented on how I hoped my travels back to Canada would be better. I can safely say that while there was no puking, they were not any better at all.
Many of you readers may know that I sponsored my significant other to get a Canadian visa to come home with me for Christmas. This was a long and difficult process, but it all worked and I booked him a flight. The problem is, I booked that flight through New York city. A simple flight transfer to make the flight cheaper. No big deal, right? BIG DEAL INDEED. My S.O. went to the airport on the morning of December 22, documents in hand, ready to fly. I was still at the hotel in Paris as my flight was later in the day. I was just having a bad dream that I had accidentally slept through my flight when he called and told me that American Airlines would not let him on the flight because he did not have a USA transit visa. I spoke to the immigration officer myself to get clarification "I'm sorry Madam it is not possible, he will not be flying with American Airlines today." I jumped out of bed in a frantic state of panic and even smacked myself in the face a few times hoping I would just wake up. Unfortunately this was not a bad dream.
I haphazardly packed my stuff back up and raced to the airport. I got there just in time for the American Airlines flight to leave, without him on it. I begged for them to refund me, reissue him a different ticket, issue us a transit visa, something...anything..but to no avail. They told me they'd cancel the ticket and he could re-book within one year, less a penalty of course. Our next course of action was to try to contact the USA embassy to get an emergency transit visa so we could re-book the flight. My flight was supposed to be leaving that afternoon, but I had to postpone it till the next day to deal with the issue (78 Euros later, thanks Air France.)
We went back to the hotel we had just checked out of which graciously agreed to let us store our luggage there while we went to the embassy. We called the embassy and paid 14 Euros JUST to talk to an agent to try to book an appointment for a visa. I lost it completely when he told me he had an appointment for December 23 and that we would then have to wait 7-10 business days for the visa to come. Exactly enough time for all of Christmas vacation to be over. A lot of crying commenced after this. I don't even really need to describe how much. We felt totally stuck.
I then decided I would have to book another flight to bring my S.O. home. This has been such a long hard fight to get him here, I wasn't willing to give that up. Perhaps being raised fairly poor has always made me have the feeling that money is such a fleeting thing. In 10 years I will not remember this extra money spent, but I will remember bringing my S.O. to Canada for the first time in his life and celebrating Christmas, my favourite holiday with him and my family. So, a DIRECT Air Canada flight was re-booked and he is on it travelling to me as I write this. One problem solved.
But that is not where this story ends, oh no, not for Karen. Yesterday I took my 8.5 hour flight from Paris to Canada. The flight went off without a hitch, no airsickness-just watched movies and read. It was a little delayed though, as they announced before leaving Paris "Sorry for the delay ladies and gentlemen. A few passengers did not make the flight, so their bags have now been removed from the cargo hold and we will take off shortly." I have to tell you that in that moment, I KNEW one of those bags would be mine. I felt it. I felt in my bones. Sure enough, after 8.5 hours of flying and 35 minutes of waiting for all the bags to come...mine was not there. At that point, I just started laughing like a crazy person and went over to the counter to give them my information.
Really, who did I piss off to deserve this? I didn't punch any babies, kick any puppies, ruin any young children's hopes and dreams about Santa...
Yet still, I seemed to get screwed time and time again. I know things could be MUCH worse and for many people it is, but it's just hard to accept that there isn't a bigger reason why things have to be so damn difficult. During all this my S.O. kept reminding me that life is about challenges and that things do not come easy, you must struggle for them. While I believe this is true and these are good words of wisdom, when he was telling me this I just pouted like a child and said I hated everything. 4 year old Karen tends to rear her little head with her pippy long stocking braids during times like this.
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