Angels Among Us

I almost lost my phone four different times on my trip to Switzerland. The first time was right after getting through security in my hometown. I settled onto a bench to tie my shoes and got up without it. A passerby noticed it and held it into the air, “Is this someone’s?” he asked.

Indeed, it was.

The same thing happened on a Swiss train on my way home. It had fallen out of my pocket and was left resting on the seat. “Someone’s phone!” a good Samaritan called.  

“Thank you so much,” I said, taking the precious possession into my incapable hands. How could I possibly say thank you enough? My phone had my plane tickets on it, my itinerary andlittle did I know, I’d need it more than ever in just a few hours. 

My flight out of Zurich was delayed, causing us to be late for our connection. But I was determined, sprinting through Frankfurt airport like a maniac. At customs, I left my passport on the counter and started running to my gate. “Wait,” an officer yelled, holding the little blue book in his hands. My God! I thought. “Thank you,” I said. How could I possibly say thank you enough? No Passport, no flight home. 

Despite getting to the gate with time to spare, they refused to let me on the plane. I later discovered this was because they don’t let passengers on if they don’t have time to transfer their connecting luggage. 

I had no choice but to accept this defeat. 

After visiting customer service, I was given information on a complimentary hotel and my new flight home the next day. Despite being in Germany, I was feeling confident with my subway navigation skills and my ability to find someone to help me if I needed directions. I mean, it was beginning to feel like people were being perfectly placed all around the world just to keep an eye on me. 

Jesus, she lost it again! I could imagine God saying with an eye roll. 

I made it to my hotel with no issues and prepared to head to my room. Hating elevators due to my claustrophobia, I decided to take the stairs. I opened the door with one hand, rolling my bag behind me with the other. The door clicked closed behind me asI made my way to my floor below and pulled on the door handle. Then, I pulled on it again and again, each time with more gusto. More muscle. This couldn’t be happening. Okay, breathe, I thought.  Just go back up to the door you came from. 

I did.

It was locked. 

Frantic now, I began scanning the stairwell. There, on the wall was a large sign written in both German and English. You are in an emergency stairwell, it said. The doors are locked for your safety.

Oh. My. God.

I began pounding on the door, shouting for help. I turned around and saw a large window at the bottom of the stairs and sprinted to it. I said a little prayer as I tugged it open. Thank you, I whispered. Oh, thank God. I was two floors up and I might have broken my leg if I jumped to the courtyard below, but at least I had options. 

A little calmer now, I took out my phone which was dwindling to one percent and called Verizon. Once I had an operator on the phone, I told her to call the Sheraton in Frankfurt and tell them to get me the hell out of there! 

No one answered. 

With a human on the line, I felt emboldened and made my way to a basement door that opened into a dark parking garage. I hit a small button next to the garage door, and thank the fucking lord, it opened. “Thank you!” I said to the Verizon worker. “I’m free!” 

“You’re welcome,” she laughed.

How could I thank her enough? She had kept me calm, as calm as was possible given my circumstances.

I headed back inside and met eyes with the man who checked me in. “You didn’t answer the phone!” I said, throwing up my hands. “I almost died in that emergency stair well!” 

“Oh my. I’m so sorry,” he said in his thick German accent. 

I knew I was being dramatic and we both smiled. Just a little. It was only noon, but I needed a drink. I needed several drinks. 

I know people find humor in my missteps. To be honest, so do I. Things never fail to happen to me as if these crazy scenarios get placed into my hands with the directions, “Remember this. Write it down. You’re going to want to share this later.” And I do. And if you can believe it, I’ve improved. I am more careful, more responsible, and better prepared. 

As I get ready for my trip to Spain tomorrow, I’m going to get a fanny pack for my phone and passport. I’m not taking any chances! I will double check my flight so I don’t have a repeat of Iceland (American Airlines doesn’t fly out of here anymore, honey!) and I triple checked the safety of the hotel so I don’t have another San Fransisco incident. (Even if The Golden Gate Hotel sounds nice, if you like your life, please don’t ever, ever stay there.) 

Traveling is not for the faint of heart. Things get delayed, changed, rearranged. Doors get locked. But if you trust that there are good people out there to get you through, there’s nothing you can’t overcome. 

It’s hard to believe in good things right now. But the best place for me to go in search of them is far from home, where I’m exploring all this world has to offer. I can see the good in the beauty of ancient architecture. I stumble upon it in historic districts or in the hidden gems of a local neighborhood. I hear it in the laughter of a family on the beach. I find it in the eyes of strangers, in the angels among us, that I will never be able to thank enough.