Ted & Ashley: The Rest of the Story

Well, I made it back to Ramstein at about 1pm today. Frankly I am quite surprised, but glad nonetheless. As I said yesterday, there were 60 available seats at BWI...and I sat there and listened to them call off sixty names that weren't mine. I really couldn't believe it. They were in my category, so I like to think I would have been next in line.... But it wasn't to be. In fact, lots of people didn't get on the plane. So we had to go to Plan B. Which, of course, I didn't have one. I walked up to the nearest group of people and asked them what their plan B was....and it turned out to be a smart move, because they are the reason I made it back so soon! Tavi and Robert had been trying to get out since Sunday, but they are a CAT V and nobody was ever getting called below a III. They were pretty frustrated at this point. Tavi said she heard a flight was leaving from Andrews, MD at 9 pm and she was thinking of taking a shuttle there. After hearing the next flight leaving from BWI to Ramstein was July 5th, I was game for anything. So Robert, Tavi and I split a shuttle to Andrews AFB. It was about a 45 minute ride. I was really starting to wonder if we were going to make it there in time to even be checked in, because there were three other people on our shuttle going to various other places near Washington D.C. I decided to just go to sleep so I could quit worrying. I woke up from my little nap, and we were stopped. I could see the gates to the air force base off in the distance, and I told the driver that's where we need to be. He told me he had to stop where he was, and that he couldn't get on base. I asked if he could at least drive a little closer to the gates, and he was like, "What?". I told him to forget it and tried to mess up his seatbelt or smear fingerprints all over the windows on my way out but it didn't work. All I ended up doing was smashing my butt in the woman's face next to me. She could've gotten up to let me out..... I'm just saying.
Anyway, the van pulled away and there we were, rolling our luggage down the road towards the front gate. You could tell all three gaurds were looking and laughing at our little gypsy caravan, and probably wondering what in the world we were attempting to do. We finally got up there, and I threw my pillow on the ground (the pillowcase should just be thrown away at this point--who travels with a white pillowcase?? Me.) and said in my most exhausted voice (no acting necessary), "Where's the air terminal?"
All three guards burst out laughing.
I said, "Can we walk there?"
They were practically rolling on the ground.
"Do you have the number to a cab?"
No.
Robert, Tavi and I just stood there looking at each other.
"You're sure we can't walk there?"
One of the guards said, between laughs, "Ma'am, if you walk, you'll get there just in time to see your plane taking off." Hahahaha. Hilarious.
Then the guards wanted to know why the shuttle didn't bring us to the terminal. We told them the driver said he wasn't allowed on base, and the guards told us they just let a shuttle on about ten minutes before we got there.

Mark my words, no one in my family will be using Super Shuttle ever again. You could call it a boycott.

Then the other guard informed us that you must be marked present two hours prior to departure. Talk about a sinking feeling.... I thought about just asking where lodging was instead.

Meanwhile, the third guard was checking someone's ID card and I overheard him say, "Sir, these people are in trouble."

Yeah, that'd be us. I waved.

Next thing you know, a very nice Captain was loading our bags into his jeep. I'm so thankful for the kindness of strangers! He brought us right to the passenger terminal, and we checked in at 8:30. At 9, an airman called me up and asked me how much I weighed, and if I were to be selected, would I like a box lunch? I told him I'd take two, and took that as a pretty sure sign that I made it on the flight. Unless they decided I was too heavy, in which case I would never eat again.

At 9:10, my name was the third of thirty-five to be selected. You'd think I had just won the lottery! In fact, almost everyone in the terminal "won the lottery," because most of us didn't make the cut at BWI. Guess what? There were thirty-five seats in the terminal, and thirty five seats on the plane. Can't ask for better than that!

We got on the bus to be driven out to board the plane, and we got a little safety briefing. If "bad smells, bad air, or anything else fills the plane, please put on this hood. If you're small and have to pull it down to your feet, please do so. Please note: it will be VERY tight on your neck. Do not panic."

Cool. Fellow passengers, please keep bad smells limited to the latrine area only. Thank you.

We also got told that we were free to spread out around the plane once we got to cruising altitude. However, if we heard the si-reen (Siren), we needed to rush back to our seats and buckle up. Si-reen? Where is this guy from? Okay, I'll keep my ears open for the si-reen. Dude.

To my delight, we were taking a C-17. That meant I could lay on the floor anywhere I wanted to! I didn't realize at the time that the floor reaches sub-zero temperatures. I was smarter than most and had brought a blanket and pillow, but I still had to defrost myself before I could stand up. Good thing no si-reens went off. It felt like I didn't sleep at all, but I must've, because somehow a nine hour flight was WAY shorter than the four hour drive afterwards.