Our Journey

Some of you know, that my last job has taken me to many places around the globe. This, along with the actual work that I do there, and the folks that I meet in these places, has been a huge source of enjoyment in my adult life. It has also been a font for that golden commodity known as “Frequent Flier Miles”.

I am absolutely loyal to one airline, and, somewhat like the George Clooney character in Up in the Air, I do what I can to maximize the miles in my account, which in turn, maximizes my comfort in transit. I have gotten fairly adept at evaluating the type of plane offered on the routes I take in order to maximize my chances at the upgrade to first or business class. I have a little script I’ve worked up to help the reservations operator understand that the guaranteed confirmation to business class, is far more important to me than the route or even the date I arrive at my destination. I have ground this down to a system that works for me – and I am not afraid to spend an hour doing research about the flight options before I even pick up the phone to book (I always use the phone, since the agents can help me weigh the options far better than the computer can).

In the years I have spent with Hubbalicious, my passion for flying in business class, and earning the miles to ensure this, has been a source of humor and teasing on his part. He would shake his head and laugh when I wrung my hands at my waiting list status on the night before a trip. He would stand behind me as I knit my brow over my screen and pages of scrap paper trying to organize my best route. And when I called him once from Bangkok to tell him I’d be coming home a day later in order to guarantee my flight would be in business class, he responded by singing Fergie’s Glamourous to me at $2.51 per minute (mock if you will, but the ability to recline with your feet up during a 12 hour flight is like being offered an in flight massage – who would turn that down!?!?)

But, oh the jokes are over, as Hubbz drank the Kool Aide himself a year or so ago. He is now equally or MORE focused on the comforts that having “status” on an airline can bring. He now yearns for the access to airport lounges, and automatic 5 inches of extra legroom in coach. He marvels at my ability to get gate agents to waive extra baggage fees or take just one more look at whether a better seat is available. He yearns for the “upgraded” seat on long flights, where mysterious glass cups and real silverware materialize, and warm chocolate chip cookies are passed around an hour before landing. Oh yes, my friends, I have created a monster, and the monster calls me from airports asking “Is there any magic you can work for me?”

I share all of this, not to brag, but to set the scene for our impending flight to Germany. I asked fairly early in the process if we’d be able to request my favorite airline for the trip. Wouldn’t it be great if I could work some magic to get us upgraded for a long flight in relative comfort? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a celebratory glass of champagne as we took off for our next new adventure? Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be able to arrive refreshed from at least a few hours of good sleep?  Hubbz wasn't enthusiastic about making a bold request such as this.  It's one of those situations, he explained, where you don't want to annoy the person with all of that ability to make you miserable!  I could certainly see his point.

There were a number of hoops to jump through before the Navy would buy our plane tickets. Some of them I have referenced in earlier posts (medical clearance and fancy new passports, to name a few). There were further checks and balances once those first hurdles were cleared. It basically goes like this….the VA base says we are cleared to go overseas based on the screenings we do in Norfolk….they send that info to the German base we are supposed to join. Germany gives us the final thumbs up and sends that message back to Hubbz’s squadron in VA. Then, someone at the squadron has to walk that approval over to the personnel department, who forwards it to the travel folks, who book our tickets. It’s all basically a system of checks and balances to ensure that everyone agrees that we are an appropriate family for the move. The problem with this system, is that any latency sets off a chain of shrugging and head scratching events that result in a basic lack of final confirmation that you’re actually moving!! Poor Hubbz had to make many phone calls and patiently ask about the status of our paperwork. A poor admin officer from his squadron was making personalized trips to the office that was receiving and stamping our forms, just to make sure that our paperwork wasn’t buried in a pile somewhere. All in all, it took a month to do what could have been done in a week…but it DID get done – and we DID finally get those golden tickets.

Our tickets didn’t arrive until most of our stuff was packed out of the house…but we were happy to see that they were 1) for the day we had hoped and 2) that we would be traveling together (both unfounded doubts had crept into our collective consciousness in the “wouldn’t that suck” category). The bummer of it was that our tickets weren’t on a carrier on which I had any “status”. So we flew the 8 hour flight in the cramped and crowded part of an Airbus 330 and tried to sleep sitting upright. My dreams of champagne toasts dashed, as Hubbz tried to balance his water glass in his teeth to reach the book that had slid down under the seat just inches from his nose.

All in all, it was fine. The trip consisted of one long flight over water, bookended by two small regional flights that seemed to go from ascent to descent without any “hang time” in the middle. We weren’t able to have seats together on the flight into Stuttgart – so we didn’t have a shared “moment” as we flew low in final approach for the runway and took in an aerial view of our new hometown. I met my beloved at the end of the jetway with a smile and a “welcome home” and with that, our Ex-Pat tenure had begun.