Public Pat-Down

Well, I’ve gone Norge, again.
Like last time, this is a 3 ½ week venture. Unlike last time, there is a low probability of it turning into 10 weeks, due to a particular July 4th holiday weekend I’d like to participate in, and the July shut-down. The latter being a local factory closure for 2 (or is it 3?) weeks. Regardless, Norges usually tack on a week here or there such that there is zero work done for the entire month of July. How’s THAT for a holiday… instead of taking the July 4th holiday, let’s just start taking the July holiday.

I am no European traveler. For any moderately long trip, I don’t wear the boots, I skip the tight jeans (let alone skirts), don’t over accessorize myself with gold/platinum/silver/copper, and I don’t overstate black. These habits are not intended to stand apart from these Euro travelers, but instead were shaped by a separate set of principles: the US regulations (namely the TSA security processes), comfort, and the general acceptance of sweatpants. As usual, I was no challenge for the US TSA, my bags were carried through and I was clean as a plastic whistle going through the detector. The 3 rings, small post earrings, a leather-banded watch, and the metal chip in my passport were no threat to the plane. In Munich, it was a different story. Not only did the knitting needles in my bag aggravate the detector, the human buzzer went off too. I took 1 small step to the side (between the walk-through metal detectors), and awaited the female inspector to finish inspecting another traveler 2 feet from me. Within a minute she was onto me. She patted my arms, pits, my chest, my back, sides, lifted my shirt to run her hand around the elastic hip band of my pants, and then went South. No temporary walls, no separator glass, no decency, no nothing. It was just a good ‘ole public pat-down. Fortunately, she didn’t find any lumps so I’m good for another year.

The flights were easy and fine. I was able to do my normal transition between knitting, magazining, and catching up on movies that were neglected a couple months ago. Somehow my vegetarian meal preference never gets translated to the airline; however there is always a fish or decent veggie option available on the menu. I eat all of the food put in front of me in the biz class. At the layovers, I dart for the lounges and continue eating. The Munich lounge is one of the best (in my amateur eyes), namely because it employs the German culture whole-heartedly. There are classy black picnic benches, each adorned with salty, doughy pretzels hanging on the pretzel rack centerpieces. The atrium above has a beer label, properly framed with a mural of the black forest (from what I gather). More than half the occupants are drinking beer, the rest are eating wieners, and you can tell a newbie from the worn business traveler. Upon arriving on the landing, the newbie’s eyes do a slow scan of the room, the smile climbs across the lips, and suddenly the newbies find a hop in their step that leads them straight to the foamy amber beverages and Haribo gummies.

Due to a late-night arrival and the lovely airport hotel, I spent the night in the airport hotel.
At 10:10 pm the sun was just setting on the horizon.
At 11:15 pm (bedtime) the residual light in the sky was still coming through the curtains.
At 04:55 am I awoke wide-eyed in a fully-lit room (yes, through the curtains) and scrambled to find my watch in trepidation that I missed my 6am alarm. Nope. False alarm. Time to start my first day.