I had just flown into Frankfurt International Airport from Houston. My husband had purchased a ticket to Delhi for me with a layover in Frankfurt. He had managed to get me a ticket on Lufthansa Airlines, which is my favorite international airline company. After spending a month with my daughter and son-in-law and their two children, and even traveling out to Colorado to see my younger son Nitai and his girlfriend Ulupi, my daughter and son-in-law had dropped me off at IAH at around 1 pm on July 1. I waved good-bye to them from the security queue and all went well after that. Well, almost.
The flight was easy and smooth. While in the air, I chanted japa, read a little, and watched "The Artist," a movie from the 1920s about the famous silent movie actor George Valentin. We had a smooth landing in Frankfurt, and after entering the terminal I checked the monitor to see which gate my connecting flight would be taking off from. Turned out it was too early for my flight to be listed on the board, so I settled into a comfortable seat to wait for my gate information to be loaded onto the monitors. I chanted japa and read Teachings of Lord Caitanya, which had been gifted to me by my dear Godsister Nidra devi dasi while we were in Denver just a few days before.
I had five hours to wait before my connecting flight to Delhi. I had not slept on the plane, so I was tired. I settled into a comfortable row of chairs that had no armrests, covered up my backpack and purse with my chadar, and fell asleep. I had set my alarm for one hour later, so that I could get up and check the monitor. I also wanted to ensure that I wouldn't sleep too long and miss my flight. I woke up when I heard my alarm, got up immediately and went back to chanting and reading. After a little while, I felt sleepy again, so I set my alarm for another snap. It worked well again this time. I got up after a short time, checked the monitor, and resumed my chanting and reading. This went on a couple more times until finally my gate was listed on the monitor. I was ready to head over to Gate C 14 for my departure.
When I got there, I checked in at the desk to make sure my special vegetarian meals were keyed into the computer system. They were, but the lady behind the desk explained that my gate had changed. Luckily, my new gate was only two doors down, so it was easy to find and quick to get to. I moved to Gate C 16. Even though I had already inquired at C 14, I went up to the desk at C 16 and asked them to check and make sure my special meals were on this plane. Yes, they were. I sat down and waited for boarding to start. I was still tired because I had slept only a couple of hours since leaving Houston, so I set my alarm for a ten-minute snap. I closed my eyes and slept for ten minutes. When I woke up, all was well. Boarding had not yet started, but it was time for it to start according to the information on my ticket, so I sat up in the chair and waited.
Finally, twenty minutes late, the announcement came. "Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen, the aircraft is now ready for boarding." As always, they first called for families with young children and people who would need special assistance upon arrival in Delhi. It seemed to take forever for them to board. Then, they called for first class and business class customers. It took an incredible span of time for them to board. My eyelids were heavy, but I fought off the urge to sleep. Next, they called for rows 96 through 98. It took ten minutes for them to board. I was amazed by how long it took for two rows to get on the plane! Then, they called for rows 94 through 96. That was the last thing I heard. I knew my row was 84, so I figured I could close my eyes and wait and listen for my row to be called. I covered up my backpack and purse and hugged them to protect them from being stolen. I closed my eyes. That was my bad. My big, big mistake. One of the biggest boo-boos I have ever made in my life.
The next thing I knew, I was being shaken by someone saying to me, "Madam, are you supposed to be on this flight?" I sat up hurriedly, grabbed my things, and ran up to the desk in front of the boarding gate. But when I reached the desk, I heard the most confusing, unbelievable, shocking words. "No, madam, you cannot board this airplane! It is full. The doors are closed!"
"What did you say?" I thought I was dreaming. I was still groggy and half asleep. "Excuse me? What are you saying?" I couldn't believe that they wouldn't let me take my seat. I showed them my passport and my boarding pass again.
"We're sorry, ma'am. The flight is closed. We called your name three times and even went looking for you. We did not see you, so we gave away your seat. You cannot board the plane. There is no seat."
I started to wake up to the grim reality of what was happening. But I wasn't ready to accept it yet. "But I was right here! How could you miss me?" I was incredulous. Just one hour before, I had reported in at the desk. They knew what I looked like. I had been right in front of them in a chair not far from the front row. How could they not have seen me? How could they not have tried to wake me up?
I was humiliated. Devastated. I panicked. I pleaded with them to please let me get on that airplane as my husband would be waiting for me at the Delhi Airport at 2 a.m. All I could think of was my husband looking and looking for me, watching all the passengers file out of the door, and nowhere would I be seen. He would be worried sick. I couldn't do that to him. I told them I had no German SIM card so I couldn't call my husband to let him know that I had missed my flight and wouldn't be alighting at the time he expected. The flight manager scolded, "You should have thought of that earlier!"
And where was my suitcase? They told me it had not been loaded on the plane, because they couldn't find me. "We're sorry, ma'am. The only thing you can do now is go to Hall B to the Service Counter and ask them when the next flight is."
I wandered out of the seating area, tears blinding my eyes. I had no idea where B Hall was. After walking aimlessly for a few yards, I turned around and went back to the desk. I pleaded with them again to let me board the plane. They refused and reiterated that the only recourse I had now was to go to Hall B and ask them to help me at the Service Desk. I was in a daze. I felt like the lead actress in a Twilight Zone episode. It was the most surreal feeling I had ever experienced. I finally gave up trying to board the plane. I wandered down a hallway and up some stairs. I had no idea where I was going. A voice called, "No, ma'am, that's the wrong way to go. You cannot come up here!" The last thing I needed was to be stopped again from going somewhere.
I burst into tears and blubbered, "I don't know where to go!" A kind young woman offered to help me. I sobbed my story to her. She calmed me down with a gentle voice and soothing words. She showed me the way to the Service Desk. By the time I reached there, I had dried my tears and begun to somewhat compose myself. I had begun to accept that I was the lead player in this horrible nightmare, like it or not, and that I had to somehow get through this. I prayed as I stood in line waiting to be helped at the Service Desk. I prayed for a miracle, though I didn't feel I deserved one after having made such a stupid mistake.
"Yes? May I help you?" Uh-oh, the tears started again. I couldn't help crying as I blurted out my story to the girl behind the desk. "Okay, let me see what we can do to fix this." I was somewhat relieved to hear her gentle voice and kind words. She typed in some codes on her keyboard, stared at her screen, and explained, "There are no more flights tonight." Oh no! I thought. My husband will be so worried and on top of that, he will have to wait even longer to pick me up! I don't want to inconvenience him by making him wait until tomorrow night to meet me!
"No more flights tonight?" I asked in disbelief. I was incredulous, because the flight manager at the gate had just told me twice that I would be able to get another flight later in the evening. But no matter how this girl searched, she could not find another flight in the evening, even by checking other airline companies. I did not want to spend the night in Frankfurt. I also did not want to spend more money. But what could I do? I slowly began to realize that what I did not want to happen was about to happen.
"The next available flight that I can book you for is on July 4th. That would cost you $2339 USD." She could see that I was not the least bit interested in spending $2000 to wait for two days and stress my husband out by delaying my arrival and spending that much more of Krishna's lakshmi. "Let me go talk to my manager and see what we can do for you." I waited. I prayed. I cried some more. I composed positive affirmations in my mind and chanted them over and over again. Again, I prayed for a miracle.
She reappeared. "Okay, if you want, you can be put on the waiting list for this same flight tomorrow. That will cost you 150 Euros, which will be about $170 USD." $170 sounded a lot better than $2339 to me. "There is no guarantee you will get on the plane because the flight is already full, and there are people ahead of you in line waiting to be called in case there are any no-shows. But at least you might have a chance. Otherwise, you will be guaranteed a seat on the July 4th flight at no extra charge." I thanked her profusely and agreed to pay the $170. She assured me that if I got a seat tomorrow, my luggage would be loaded on tomorrow's flight. Otherwise, if I did not get a seat, my luggage would be held until the 4th, and loaded on that plane. Now, I had to figure out how to get word to my husband.
I asked her where I could connect to the internet. "Oh there's Wi-Fi all throughout the airport! You just need to click on such-and-such, and it will come up." So I found a chair that was tucked away in a private spot, because I knew I would probably end up crying some more and I hated for people to see me cry. I opened my computer, found the name they had said to click on, and sure enough, up came a page for free Wi-Fi at Frankfurt Airport. I registered, and was immediately connected. I brought up my email, and began by typing "EMERGENCY" in the subject line. "Dear Prabhu, I am sorry to tell you I have bad news. I missed my flight!" I explained everything. I told him that it was all my fault and that I was very, very sorry to inconvenience him in this way. To my great relief, he immediately replied.
"Don't worry, Devi. we all make mistakes. Just find a safe place to rest where there are plenty of people sitting and milling around, so that you'll be safe while you wait. You probably won't get on that flight tomorrow, so be patient. No problem. I love you and I'm waiting for you. Please let me know when you find a busy area of the airport where you can hang out and wait for your flight." I was so relieved to hear from him that I burst into tears again, and his sweet response made me feel even worse for having inconvenienced him.
But now I had direction. I set to work finding a place where there were lots of people gathered to wait for their flights. I walked the hallways searching for people. I could not find a crowd anywhere. I asked various airport personnel, "Where can I find a place where there are more people waiting for flights?" Someone said I should go to Hall B. I had just come from Hall B, so I knew where that was. I retraced my steps. I went back to the Service Counter, and looked around. But no crowds were to be found anywhere. I asked at the desk. Someone said, "You need to go out through security and past immigration, turn left and follow the signs to the main part of Hall B. That's where you'll find people waiting for flights."
I thanked them and left the Service Desk. I proceeded toward the security area, only to find the doors all locked and a man inside motioning to me that I was not allowed to enter. Now what do I do? I turned around and began to search the halls. Every place I went, there were no people to be found. It was like a ghost town. Again I felt like I was in Alfred Hitchcock's Twilight Zone. I had never seen a big international airport close down like a small town in rural USA. It was eerie. Okay, it looks like I am locked inside this place. So I guess I'll just accept the fact that I can't get out, and wait until morning.
I wandered around looking for a place where I could rest comfortably, be near a bathroom and a drinking fountain, and where I wouldn't be seen. I found it. If someone asked me where I was at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to tell them. I just knew it felt like a good place to camp out. As I had searched the airport for a suitable place to rest, I had found three things I needed: a sweatshirt that someone had left hours before in a bathroom, a small airline pillow someone had left on a seat, and an unopened package containing a complimentary toothbrush and a tiny tube of toothpaste. My husband often says, "I couldn't see a blue hand come out of the sky, but I knew Krishna was pulling the strings to make things happen." I smiled and whispered, "Thank You, Lord!" as it appeared that Krishna had arranged for three people to leave things where I would find them, things I needed in order to be comfortable during my night at the airport.
But my husband was not so pleased. I reported to him by email that I was not able to get out of the area of the terminal I was in, that they had locked the security station, and that I had to spend the night in there. I told him there was no one around, but he was not satisfied with that. He was afraid I could potentially be in danger. After chanting Nrsimha-kavaca, I fell asleep, emotionally exhausted and weary from walking untold numbers of miles throughout the afternoon and evening carrying a heavy backpack. I was worn out. He emailed me, but I did not see his email until two hours later when my alarm rang. He told me that he could not sleep because he was too worried about me. I assured him that I was practically invisible. I told him I had fallen asleep for an hour, and then woke up. I had spent another hour resting, but was unable to sleep because my body clock was still operating according to Houston time. Lying there wide awake, I decided to check my email. That's when I saw his letter saying that he was too worried about me and that he couldn't sleep. I typed out as reassuring a response as I could, explaining how I felt safe in this isolated place and that there was no one around except one old janitor who was cleaning and had left long ago, never to be seen again. I apologized sincerely for having put him in such anxiety. I sent the email, then passed Krishna's time by reading, chanting, and doing more correspondence. I prayed for my husband that he would be peaceful and be able to sleep.
Soon the sky began to lighten. I felt encouraged. I heard voices. I went to wash my face, brush my teeth, and fix my hair in the bathroom. I was refreshed and ready to face a new day. I wrote out positive affirmations. "My Dear Lord Govinda, if You so desire, please allow me to get a seat on today's flight. My Dear Lord Govinda, I see that You kindly allow me to get a seat on today's flight. Thank You, My Dear Lord Govinda, for allowing me to get a seat on today's flight." I chanted japa, and made positive thinking my new and only mindset.
The hours passed. I continued writing positive affirmations. I continued chanting those positive affirmations in my mind. Everyone I saw greeted me with bright smiles. I felt encouraged. Hopeful. I was not willing to consider failure. I felt like Arjuna, the famous warrior. When his guru Dronacarya told him to aim his arrow at a bird in a tree, his guru asked him, "Arjuna, what do you see?" Arjuna had replied that he saw only the bird. So I saw only the positive vision of myself being called by the boarding crew to accept my seat on the airplane. I typed out an email to my husband, in anticipation of success. "GOT A SEAT! MUST BOARD IMMEDIATELY. CAN'T WRITE ANY MORE. THANK YOU, LORD KRISHNA! THANK YOU, SRIMATI RADHARANI! THANK YOU, LORD NRSIMHADEVA! Love you, Prabhu. See you soon! ~Phalini" and kept my finger poised to hit "SEND" as soon as I heard my name called.
They made announcements. They explained that the flight was overbooked. They asked people to volunteer to give up their seats and take a flight the next day. Overbooked? My heart could have sunk, but I didn't let it. Boarding continued. They called for people with confirmed tickets who still hadn't shown up. Three different groups appeared, one by one, huffing and puffing and smiling, "We made it!" They were cordially ushered onto the plane. I sat in the front row of seats waiting. Alert.
Two of the ladies that were working behind the desk looked over at me. One called, "Ma'am? What is your name?"
I answered, "Frances McLeod." They beckoned for me to come. "You have a seat. Board immediately." I hit "SEND." A rush of gratitude filled my heart. I closed my computer without even turning it off. I gathered my belongings. I walked up to the desk, showed them my passport and boarding pass, and walked through the gate. I was in bliss.
"You have a seat" was what I had continued to hear in my mind for the last several hours, and now I had heard it spoken by the lady behind the desk. That is the first time I have ever flown stand-by, and it turned out to be a positive experience.
After that, everything was positive. Upon stepping onto the airplane I was shown to my seat, which had extra leg room. I was so pleased! A flight attendant hoisted my heavy backpack up into the overhead bin for me. I took my seat, buckled up, and stretched out my tired legs. The flight attendant who had stowed my backpack asked, "Are you in Krsna consciousness? ISKCON?" I said, "Yes, thank you for asking!" He said, "I thought so." We hit it off and throughout the flight, he took special care of me. He and his colleague, a young German lady, tried to make my flight experience as comfortable and pleasant as possible. They frequently came to ask me if there was anything they could get for me or do for me.
Later, when I got up to use the restroom, I peeked through the curtain of their work area and grinned, "You guys are making me love Lufthansa!" They laughed and pulled me inside. They introduced themselves and the young man, whose name was Nayan, asked me to explain to his colleague Laura why we devotees are vegetarians. I told her that because we are trying to devote our lives to re-awakening our love for Krishna, or God, we are trying to live our lives in such a way that we always please Him. So whatever we eat, we first cook and offer to Krishna with love, for His pleasure. And Krishna doesn't eat meat, fish or eggs, so that's why we don't." Laura seemed satisfied with my simple explanation, but she had more questions, so we exchanged email addresses. Nayan and I also exchanged contact information. I returned to my seat and Nayan came by with a bag of goodies. He had revealed to me earlier that he was actually an aspiring devotee of Krishna and that he had ordered kanthi-mala (Tulasi neck beads). He asked if I would like some almonds, and I answered "Yes!" so he gathered up a bunch of snacks that were labeled "vegetarian" and dropped a bag of goodies in my lap with a big grin on his face.
The time for our plane to land approached. The cabin crew were asked to prepare for landing and take their seats. The pilot had to circle in the air for twenty minutes waiting for our landing strip to clear, but eventually we were able to descend and the landing turned out to be smooth. As we taxied into our parking place at the terminal, my phone rang. I was so glad to see who was calling! "Devi! Where are you?"
"We just now landed, Prabhuji! We had to circle for quite a while waiting for the opportunity to land, but now we're on the ground taxiing toward the terminal."
"Okay, I'm waiting outside. You can't use your phone in customs and immigration, so make sure you turn it off. And when you go to the pre-paid taxi counter, don't let them charge you more than 500 rupees. See if they'll let you pay with a credit card. If they won't, just come outside and I'll pay with cash at the outside counter."
"Okay, Prabhuji. I'll be out there as soon as I can."
The queue for holders of foreign passports was amazingly short, so I got through customs and immigration very quickly. I turned my phone back on and called my husband to tell him that I was already in the baggage claim. But there was a huge crowd and very few people had claimed their luggage so far. I was doubtful that my bag had even been loaded on the plane, because after all, I had not had a confirmed ticket. But to my pleasant surprise, after about thirty minutes of waiting, there it was. My tattered old well-used suitcase was scooting along the belt with its faded green ribbons tied to the handles. I tried to pick it up, but couldn't. I ran around to the other side of the carousel until I could find an opening next to a strong-looking man. There was no way I could pick up a fifty-pound suitcase. "Sir? Can you pick up my suitcase for me? It's coming right now. There it is!"
"Sure." The man lifted it off the carousel for me. I thanked him and pushed the button to release the collapsible handle, but the collapsible handle had somehow been broken in transit, so I couldn't wheel it properly. I dragged it as best I could toward my cart. I asked a young man standing next to me to load it onto the cart. He happily complied. I thanked him. Now I was ready to head to the pre-paid auto counter. By Krishna's grace, and the help of some airport employees, I found the counter. The man behind the counter explained to me that at that counter, they only accepted "cass" and that I needed to go outside.
"What? What does this word 'cass' mean?" I could not figure out what he was saying. Then another man spoke up.
"They only accept cash."
"Oh! CASH!" I called my husband.
"No problem, Devi. Just come outside. I have cash and we can get the taxi out here." So I wheeled my cart to the door and there was my dear husband whom I had not seen for a month. He was a welcome sight for my sore eyes! I was so happy to see him and he was happy to see me. We were both relieved that I was safe and sound and back in India where he could keep a closer eye on me.
Even though it had been a traumatizing experience for both of us that I missed my flight, I learned a heavy lesson from my big mistake. It should have been obvious to me that I was taking too big of a risk closing my eyes--after boarding had already started--without setting my alarm. That was a very, very stupid move on my part. But I got what I deserved for my big boo-boo. Nonetheless, I was blessed to be protected by Krishna throughout the entire ordeal. I also felt the protection of my husband even though he was far away, because we were able to keep in touch by email, and he coached me along. My husband is a very practical, responsible man who is always on time, has never missed a plane even though he has flown a lot, and has never missed a train, even though we travel by train all the time. He also seldom makes mistakes. So he pointed out to me that where I went wrong was to close my eyes without setting my alarm after boarding had already started. I agreed. He gave me some practical suggestions how I can make sure that doesn't ever happen again. I am keeping his good advice in the forefront of my mind for future trips.
What initially came as a surreal nightmare and a devastating shock to me turned out to be a good learning experience, full of valuable life lessons, and a totally positive blessing in disguise.
The flight was easy and smooth. While in the air, I chanted japa, read a little, and watched "The Artist," a movie from the 1920s about the famous silent movie actor George Valentin. We had a smooth landing in Frankfurt, and after entering the terminal I checked the monitor to see which gate my connecting flight would be taking off from. Turned out it was too early for my flight to be listed on the board, so I settled into a comfortable seat to wait for my gate information to be loaded onto the monitors. I chanted japa and read Teachings of Lord Caitanya, which had been gifted to me by my dear Godsister Nidra devi dasi while we were in Denver just a few days before.
I had five hours to wait before my connecting flight to Delhi. I had not slept on the plane, so I was tired. I settled into a comfortable row of chairs that had no armrests, covered up my backpack and purse with my chadar, and fell asleep. I had set my alarm for one hour later, so that I could get up and check the monitor. I also wanted to ensure that I wouldn't sleep too long and miss my flight. I woke up when I heard my alarm, got up immediately and went back to chanting and reading. After a little while, I felt sleepy again, so I set my alarm for another snap. It worked well again this time. I got up after a short time, checked the monitor, and resumed my chanting and reading. This went on a couple more times until finally my gate was listed on the monitor. I was ready to head over to Gate C 14 for my departure.
When I got there, I checked in at the desk to make sure my special vegetarian meals were keyed into the computer system. They were, but the lady behind the desk explained that my gate had changed. Luckily, my new gate was only two doors down, so it was easy to find and quick to get to. I moved to Gate C 16. Even though I had already inquired at C 14, I went up to the desk at C 16 and asked them to check and make sure my special meals were on this plane. Yes, they were. I sat down and waited for boarding to start. I was still tired because I had slept only a couple of hours since leaving Houston, so I set my alarm for a ten-minute snap. I closed my eyes and slept for ten minutes. When I woke up, all was well. Boarding had not yet started, but it was time for it to start according to the information on my ticket, so I sat up in the chair and waited.
Finally, twenty minutes late, the announcement came. "Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen, the aircraft is now ready for boarding." As always, they first called for families with young children and people who would need special assistance upon arrival in Delhi. It seemed to take forever for them to board. Then, they called for first class and business class customers. It took an incredible span of time for them to board. My eyelids were heavy, but I fought off the urge to sleep. Next, they called for rows 96 through 98. It took ten minutes for them to board. I was amazed by how long it took for two rows to get on the plane! Then, they called for rows 94 through 96. That was the last thing I heard. I knew my row was 84, so I figured I could close my eyes and wait and listen for my row to be called. I covered up my backpack and purse and hugged them to protect them from being stolen. I closed my eyes. That was my bad. My big, big mistake. One of the biggest boo-boos I have ever made in my life.
The next thing I knew, I was being shaken by someone saying to me, "Madam, are you supposed to be on this flight?" I sat up hurriedly, grabbed my things, and ran up to the desk in front of the boarding gate. But when I reached the desk, I heard the most confusing, unbelievable, shocking words. "No, madam, you cannot board this airplane! It is full. The doors are closed!"
"What did you say?" I thought I was dreaming. I was still groggy and half asleep. "Excuse me? What are you saying?" I couldn't believe that they wouldn't let me take my seat. I showed them my passport and my boarding pass again.
"We're sorry, ma'am. The flight is closed. We called your name three times and even went looking for you. We did not see you, so we gave away your seat. You cannot board the plane. There is no seat."
I started to wake up to the grim reality of what was happening. But I wasn't ready to accept it yet. "But I was right here! How could you miss me?" I was incredulous. Just one hour before, I had reported in at the desk. They knew what I looked like. I had been right in front of them in a chair not far from the front row. How could they not have seen me? How could they not have tried to wake me up?
I was humiliated. Devastated. I panicked. I pleaded with them to please let me get on that airplane as my husband would be waiting for me at the Delhi Airport at 2 a.m. All I could think of was my husband looking and looking for me, watching all the passengers file out of the door, and nowhere would I be seen. He would be worried sick. I couldn't do that to him. I told them I had no German SIM card so I couldn't call my husband to let him know that I had missed my flight and wouldn't be alighting at the time he expected. The flight manager scolded, "You should have thought of that earlier!"
And where was my suitcase? They told me it had not been loaded on the plane, because they couldn't find me. "We're sorry, ma'am. The only thing you can do now is go to Hall B to the Service Counter and ask them when the next flight is."
I wandered out of the seating area, tears blinding my eyes. I had no idea where B Hall was. After walking aimlessly for a few yards, I turned around and went back to the desk. I pleaded with them again to let me board the plane. They refused and reiterated that the only recourse I had now was to go to Hall B and ask them to help me at the Service Desk. I was in a daze. I felt like the lead actress in a Twilight Zone episode. It was the most surreal feeling I had ever experienced. I finally gave up trying to board the plane. I wandered down a hallway and up some stairs. I had no idea where I was going. A voice called, "No, ma'am, that's the wrong way to go. You cannot come up here!" The last thing I needed was to be stopped again from going somewhere.
I burst into tears and blubbered, "I don't know where to go!" A kind young woman offered to help me. I sobbed my story to her. She calmed me down with a gentle voice and soothing words. She showed me the way to the Service Desk. By the time I reached there, I had dried my tears and begun to somewhat compose myself. I had begun to accept that I was the lead player in this horrible nightmare, like it or not, and that I had to somehow get through this. I prayed as I stood in line waiting to be helped at the Service Desk. I prayed for a miracle, though I didn't feel I deserved one after having made such a stupid mistake.
"Yes? May I help you?" Uh-oh, the tears started again. I couldn't help crying as I blurted out my story to the girl behind the desk. "Okay, let me see what we can do to fix this." I was somewhat relieved to hear her gentle voice and kind words. She typed in some codes on her keyboard, stared at her screen, and explained, "There are no more flights tonight." Oh no! I thought. My husband will be so worried and on top of that, he will have to wait even longer to pick me up! I don't want to inconvenience him by making him wait until tomorrow night to meet me!
"No more flights tonight?" I asked in disbelief. I was incredulous, because the flight manager at the gate had just told me twice that I would be able to get another flight later in the evening. But no matter how this girl searched, she could not find another flight in the evening, even by checking other airline companies. I did not want to spend the night in Frankfurt. I also did not want to spend more money. But what could I do? I slowly began to realize that what I did not want to happen was about to happen.
"The next available flight that I can book you for is on July 4th. That would cost you $2339 USD." She could see that I was not the least bit interested in spending $2000 to wait for two days and stress my husband out by delaying my arrival and spending that much more of Krishna's lakshmi. "Let me go talk to my manager and see what we can do for you." I waited. I prayed. I cried some more. I composed positive affirmations in my mind and chanted them over and over again. Again, I prayed for a miracle.
She reappeared. "Okay, if you want, you can be put on the waiting list for this same flight tomorrow. That will cost you 150 Euros, which will be about $170 USD." $170 sounded a lot better than $2339 to me. "There is no guarantee you will get on the plane because the flight is already full, and there are people ahead of you in line waiting to be called in case there are any no-shows. But at least you might have a chance. Otherwise, you will be guaranteed a seat on the July 4th flight at no extra charge." I thanked her profusely and agreed to pay the $170. She assured me that if I got a seat tomorrow, my luggage would be loaded on tomorrow's flight. Otherwise, if I did not get a seat, my luggage would be held until the 4th, and loaded on that plane. Now, I had to figure out how to get word to my husband.
I asked her where I could connect to the internet. "Oh there's Wi-Fi all throughout the airport! You just need to click on such-and-such, and it will come up." So I found a chair that was tucked away in a private spot, because I knew I would probably end up crying some more and I hated for people to see me cry. I opened my computer, found the name they had said to click on, and sure enough, up came a page for free Wi-Fi at Frankfurt Airport. I registered, and was immediately connected. I brought up my email, and began by typing "EMERGENCY" in the subject line. "Dear Prabhu, I am sorry to tell you I have bad news. I missed my flight!" I explained everything. I told him that it was all my fault and that I was very, very sorry to inconvenience him in this way. To my great relief, he immediately replied.
"Don't worry, Devi. we all make mistakes. Just find a safe place to rest where there are plenty of people sitting and milling around, so that you'll be safe while you wait. You probably won't get on that flight tomorrow, so be patient. No problem. I love you and I'm waiting for you. Please let me know when you find a busy area of the airport where you can hang out and wait for your flight." I was so relieved to hear from him that I burst into tears again, and his sweet response made me feel even worse for having inconvenienced him.
But now I had direction. I set to work finding a place where there were lots of people gathered to wait for their flights. I walked the hallways searching for people. I could not find a crowd anywhere. I asked various airport personnel, "Where can I find a place where there are more people waiting for flights?" Someone said I should go to Hall B. I had just come from Hall B, so I knew where that was. I retraced my steps. I went back to the Service Counter, and looked around. But no crowds were to be found anywhere. I asked at the desk. Someone said, "You need to go out through security and past immigration, turn left and follow the signs to the main part of Hall B. That's where you'll find people waiting for flights."
I thanked them and left the Service Desk. I proceeded toward the security area, only to find the doors all locked and a man inside motioning to me that I was not allowed to enter. Now what do I do? I turned around and began to search the halls. Every place I went, there were no people to be found. It was like a ghost town. Again I felt like I was in Alfred Hitchcock's Twilight Zone. I had never seen a big international airport close down like a small town in rural USA. It was eerie. Okay, it looks like I am locked inside this place. So I guess I'll just accept the fact that I can't get out, and wait until morning.
I wandered around looking for a place where I could rest comfortably, be near a bathroom and a drinking fountain, and where I wouldn't be seen. I found it. If someone asked me where I was at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to tell them. I just knew it felt like a good place to camp out. As I had searched the airport for a suitable place to rest, I had found three things I needed: a sweatshirt that someone had left hours before in a bathroom, a small airline pillow someone had left on a seat, and an unopened package containing a complimentary toothbrush and a tiny tube of toothpaste. My husband often says, "I couldn't see a blue hand come out of the sky, but I knew Krishna was pulling the strings to make things happen." I smiled and whispered, "Thank You, Lord!" as it appeared that Krishna had arranged for three people to leave things where I would find them, things I needed in order to be comfortable during my night at the airport.
But my husband was not so pleased. I reported to him by email that I was not able to get out of the area of the terminal I was in, that they had locked the security station, and that I had to spend the night in there. I told him there was no one around, but he was not satisfied with that. He was afraid I could potentially be in danger. After chanting Nrsimha-kavaca, I fell asleep, emotionally exhausted and weary from walking untold numbers of miles throughout the afternoon and evening carrying a heavy backpack. I was worn out. He emailed me, but I did not see his email until two hours later when my alarm rang. He told me that he could not sleep because he was too worried about me. I assured him that I was practically invisible. I told him I had fallen asleep for an hour, and then woke up. I had spent another hour resting, but was unable to sleep because my body clock was still operating according to Houston time. Lying there wide awake, I decided to check my email. That's when I saw his letter saying that he was too worried about me and that he couldn't sleep. I typed out as reassuring a response as I could, explaining how I felt safe in this isolated place and that there was no one around except one old janitor who was cleaning and had left long ago, never to be seen again. I apologized sincerely for having put him in such anxiety. I sent the email, then passed Krishna's time by reading, chanting, and doing more correspondence. I prayed for my husband that he would be peaceful and be able to sleep.
Soon the sky began to lighten. I felt encouraged. I heard voices. I went to wash my face, brush my teeth, and fix my hair in the bathroom. I was refreshed and ready to face a new day. I wrote out positive affirmations. "My Dear Lord Govinda, if You so desire, please allow me to get a seat on today's flight. My Dear Lord Govinda, I see that You kindly allow me to get a seat on today's flight. Thank You, My Dear Lord Govinda, for allowing me to get a seat on today's flight." I chanted japa, and made positive thinking my new and only mindset.
The hours passed. I continued writing positive affirmations. I continued chanting those positive affirmations in my mind. Everyone I saw greeted me with bright smiles. I felt encouraged. Hopeful. I was not willing to consider failure. I felt like Arjuna, the famous warrior. When his guru Dronacarya told him to aim his arrow at a bird in a tree, his guru asked him, "Arjuna, what do you see?" Arjuna had replied that he saw only the bird. So I saw only the positive vision of myself being called by the boarding crew to accept my seat on the airplane. I typed out an email to my husband, in anticipation of success. "GOT A SEAT! MUST BOARD IMMEDIATELY. CAN'T WRITE ANY MORE. THANK YOU, LORD KRISHNA! THANK YOU, SRIMATI RADHARANI! THANK YOU, LORD NRSIMHADEVA! Love you, Prabhu. See you soon! ~Phalini" and kept my finger poised to hit "SEND" as soon as I heard my name called.
They made announcements. They explained that the flight was overbooked. They asked people to volunteer to give up their seats and take a flight the next day. Overbooked? My heart could have sunk, but I didn't let it. Boarding continued. They called for people with confirmed tickets who still hadn't shown up. Three different groups appeared, one by one, huffing and puffing and smiling, "We made it!" They were cordially ushered onto the plane. I sat in the front row of seats waiting. Alert.
Two of the ladies that were working behind the desk looked over at me. One called, "Ma'am? What is your name?"
I answered, "Frances McLeod." They beckoned for me to come. "You have a seat. Board immediately." I hit "SEND." A rush of gratitude filled my heart. I closed my computer without even turning it off. I gathered my belongings. I walked up to the desk, showed them my passport and boarding pass, and walked through the gate. I was in bliss.
"You have a seat" was what I had continued to hear in my mind for the last several hours, and now I had heard it spoken by the lady behind the desk. That is the first time I have ever flown stand-by, and it turned out to be a positive experience.
After that, everything was positive. Upon stepping onto the airplane I was shown to my seat, which had extra leg room. I was so pleased! A flight attendant hoisted my heavy backpack up into the overhead bin for me. I took my seat, buckled up, and stretched out my tired legs. The flight attendant who had stowed my backpack asked, "Are you in Krsna consciousness? ISKCON?" I said, "Yes, thank you for asking!" He said, "I thought so." We hit it off and throughout the flight, he took special care of me. He and his colleague, a young German lady, tried to make my flight experience as comfortable and pleasant as possible. They frequently came to ask me if there was anything they could get for me or do for me.
Later, when I got up to use the restroom, I peeked through the curtain of their work area and grinned, "You guys are making me love Lufthansa!" They laughed and pulled me inside. They introduced themselves and the young man, whose name was Nayan, asked me to explain to his colleague Laura why we devotees are vegetarians. I told her that because we are trying to devote our lives to re-awakening our love for Krishna, or God, we are trying to live our lives in such a way that we always please Him. So whatever we eat, we first cook and offer to Krishna with love, for His pleasure. And Krishna doesn't eat meat, fish or eggs, so that's why we don't." Laura seemed satisfied with my simple explanation, but she had more questions, so we exchanged email addresses. Nayan and I also exchanged contact information. I returned to my seat and Nayan came by with a bag of goodies. He had revealed to me earlier that he was actually an aspiring devotee of Krishna and that he had ordered kanthi-mala (Tulasi neck beads). He asked if I would like some almonds, and I answered "Yes!" so he gathered up a bunch of snacks that were labeled "vegetarian" and dropped a bag of goodies in my lap with a big grin on his face.
The time for our plane to land approached. The cabin crew were asked to prepare for landing and take their seats. The pilot had to circle in the air for twenty minutes waiting for our landing strip to clear, but eventually we were able to descend and the landing turned out to be smooth. As we taxied into our parking place at the terminal, my phone rang. I was so glad to see who was calling! "Devi! Where are you?"
"We just now landed, Prabhuji! We had to circle for quite a while waiting for the opportunity to land, but now we're on the ground taxiing toward the terminal."
"Okay, I'm waiting outside. You can't use your phone in customs and immigration, so make sure you turn it off. And when you go to the pre-paid taxi counter, don't let them charge you more than 500 rupees. See if they'll let you pay with a credit card. If they won't, just come outside and I'll pay with cash at the outside counter."
"Okay, Prabhuji. I'll be out there as soon as I can."
The queue for holders of foreign passports was amazingly short, so I got through customs and immigration very quickly. I turned my phone back on and called my husband to tell him that I was already in the baggage claim. But there was a huge crowd and very few people had claimed their luggage so far. I was doubtful that my bag had even been loaded on the plane, because after all, I had not had a confirmed ticket. But to my pleasant surprise, after about thirty minutes of waiting, there it was. My tattered old well-used suitcase was scooting along the belt with its faded green ribbons tied to the handles. I tried to pick it up, but couldn't. I ran around to the other side of the carousel until I could find an opening next to a strong-looking man. There was no way I could pick up a fifty-pound suitcase. "Sir? Can you pick up my suitcase for me? It's coming right now. There it is!"
"Sure." The man lifted it off the carousel for me. I thanked him and pushed the button to release the collapsible handle, but the collapsible handle had somehow been broken in transit, so I couldn't wheel it properly. I dragged it as best I could toward my cart. I asked a young man standing next to me to load it onto the cart. He happily complied. I thanked him. Now I was ready to head to the pre-paid auto counter. By Krishna's grace, and the help of some airport employees, I found the counter. The man behind the counter explained to me that at that counter, they only accepted "cass" and that I needed to go outside.
"What? What does this word 'cass' mean?" I could not figure out what he was saying. Then another man spoke up.
"They only accept cash."
"Oh! CASH!" I called my husband.
"No problem, Devi. Just come outside. I have cash and we can get the taxi out here." So I wheeled my cart to the door and there was my dear husband whom I had not seen for a month. He was a welcome sight for my sore eyes! I was so happy to see him and he was happy to see me. We were both relieved that I was safe and sound and back in India where he could keep a closer eye on me.
Even though it had been a traumatizing experience for both of us that I missed my flight, I learned a heavy lesson from my big mistake. It should have been obvious to me that I was taking too big of a risk closing my eyes--after boarding had already started--without setting my alarm. That was a very, very stupid move on my part. But I got what I deserved for my big boo-boo. Nonetheless, I was blessed to be protected by Krishna throughout the entire ordeal. I also felt the protection of my husband even though he was far away, because we were able to keep in touch by email, and he coached me along. My husband is a very practical, responsible man who is always on time, has never missed a plane even though he has flown a lot, and has never missed a train, even though we travel by train all the time. He also seldom makes mistakes. So he pointed out to me that where I went wrong was to close my eyes without setting my alarm after boarding had already started. I agreed. He gave me some practical suggestions how I can make sure that doesn't ever happen again. I am keeping his good advice in the forefront of my mind for future trips.
What initially came as a surreal nightmare and a devastating shock to me turned out to be a good learning experience, full of valuable life lessons, and a totally positive blessing in disguise.
Wonderful story mataji. Krishna, Krishna raksha mam... Write more, you have talent. Pranam to you both. Hare Krishna.
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