The Immigration Queue

I returned home last week after a calamitous executive meeting in Palo Alto. I had expected trouble at the meeting – accurately. [Note: ‘trouble’ dramatically understates situational difficulties.] Uncharacteristically, and certainly not in keeping with the tenor of my visit, the flight home left on time and arrived early.

Entering the immigration hall, I noted two queues (see above).

The “European Union/Swiss” queue was moving quickly. The “Other” queue was both long and stalled. An airplane from Eastern Europe had landed just before my flight and, it was clear, the passengers had generally forgotten to acquire visas. The immigration police were treating each person as a risk to the Swiss way of life. (I.e. they were actually enforcing the mandated legal procedures.) It was going to take a long time.

“But, the other queue is empty,” I thought. “And I have a Swiss edelweiss, eh, a Swiss aüslanderausweiβ [residency permit]. Perhaps this will allow me to use the EU and Swiss desk.”

I was on the horns of a dilemma. I stood in the middle of a gargantuan queue with Romanians in front of me and Bulgarians behind. If I left and was unsuccessful, I’d lose my place. But if I simply stood my ground, it would take half of forever to get out. I boldly pulled my residency permit from my briefcase and (cluelessly) walked to the queueless immigration desk.

The agent looked at my documents. “You must use the other line,” he said.

“There are a million people in that line.” I replied.

“Yes, I know. It is just like when I went to America for vacation.”

There was nothing to say. Slinking back (way back) to the other queue was my only alternative.

Executive Meeting

Some readers know that I went to an executive meeting last week. The session, requested by the CEO of my customer was hosted by the CEO of my company.

“How did it go?” you ask.

Well – simply look at the sign in the photo above. Assume that it applied to the Boardroom where the meeting took place. Assume further that the major attendees used both a blow-torch and (several) hand grenades to make their points.


It was worse.

Dessert

A few days ago, Nazy and I decided to walk to town for dessert. The carefully negotiated expedition was organized so that the calories consumed by eating would be completely offset by the calories expended getting there. (Given what we were each likely to choose, I would have to sprint home while Nazy took the tram.) We discussed alternatives for a venue whilst en route.

“We could have ice cream at Movenpick,” I said.

“You’ll get pistachio, Dan.”

“I like pistachio…”

“You are so predictable.”

“We could go to Globus, Nazy.” I replied. “And, speaking of predictable, you’ll get a salad,” I thought.

“I don’t want a salad,” Nazy said. “What about Felix?”

“Felix?”

“It’s new. My friends say that they have wonderful cheesecake.”

“Well then, Felix sounds like an excellent suggestion. I haven’t had a nice piece of cheesecake since I was in New York.”

“I thought you had cottage cheese in New York,” Nazy replied.

“That’s what I meant,” I said. “But not for dessert,” I thought.

Our waiter was a loquacious Spaniard. Nazy started the conversation by asking if he was happy working at Felix.

“It’s a great job,” he replied. “People talk to me and I can practice my English. In fact, English is my best language.”

“Better than Spanish?” I asked.

“My parents are Spanish, but I don’t talk very much with them. What would you like for dessert?”

“I’ll have a cheesecake,” I replied. And to simplify things, I also pointed to my selection in the showcase.

“That’s not cheesecake.” Jose Juan replied. “It’s Quark™”.

“A quark is a sub-atomic particle,” I thought. I was disappointed.

“I can get you a cheesecake from the kitchen.”

“That’s great.” I replied.

“Und ein kugel coffee glace,” Nazy ordered– showing off.

Several minutes later, Jose Juan showed up with, eh..

“What do you think this is, Nazy?” My ‘cheesecake’ was warm and smelled cheesy.

“It’s a quiche, Dan.” Nazy replied.

“And English is his best subject.” I replied. “What do you have?”

“I ordered one scoop of coffee ice cream and he brought some kind of parfait with green ice cream…”

“I’ll help you eat that..”

“… and a pile of whipped cream taller than the Matterhorn.”

“You shouldn’t have used German. In fact, imagine what would have happened if we had tried to order in Spanish. I’ll just ask him for a Quark.”

It was a good move. Quark tasted like cheesecake with raspberry sauce. Nazy scraped the whipped cream to the side and we took the quiche home for later

Travel Travails

As usual, I had joined the check-in queue behind someone with a problem. The passenger in front of mw a large lady from India, was arguing with the ticket agent.

“It would be more convenient for me to go today.”

“But your ticket is for tomorrow.” The agent replied with typical Swiss directness.

“Yes. I bought ticket for that day because it was cheaper. But it would be much more convenient if I went today.”

“Your ticket is for tomorrow.”

“I want to go today,” The (prospective) passenger replied, attempting to lift a Volkswagen-sized suitcase.

“Your ticket is for tomorrow, not today.”

“Tomorrow is not opportune.” The passenger turned to me. “Can you help with this luggage?”

“Don’t do that!” The agent glared at me. “We cannot take your luggage unless you are traveling.”

“Exactly.” The passenger replied. “It is much better for me if I travel today.”

“Your ticket is for tomorrow.”

“I want to go today.”

“You have to go to the service desk to change your ticket.”

“I do not want to change my ticket. I just want to go today.”

“You have to go to the service desk. It’s …”

“If I leave this queue, I’ll miss my flight.”

“You won’t miss your flight. Your flight is tomorrow.”

“I want to go…”

“Then go! Go to the ticket counter.”

“No wonder your customer satisfaction rankings are so low.” The passenger looked at me. “Watch my luggage – and be careful of this agent. She is very rude.”

Finally checked in, I walked to passport control and joined the queue behind a bohemian student with purple hair.

Standing next to a giant sign (“Have passport and boarding pass ready.”) the student was discussing the situation with the immigration agent.

“You want to see my passport?” She said, as she searched a plastic bag. “And, my boarding pass? What is a boarding pass?”

Predictably, the student was on my flight. Queued to enter the airplane, I saw her searching the plastic bag. “But I already showed the boarding pass to someone. Why do you want to see it too?”

When we entered the airplane, the confusion continued. The student, who had walked past her seat, was struggling against the flow to get back to row 16.

“No problem,” I replied, sliding out of the way, “They should have told you that the rows were numbered sequentially.”

“That is so clever.”

I settled into place. Although it was in the last row, it had the advantage of having an empty seat next to it. Just before the door closed, the Indian woman boarded. She marched to my row and sat down in the ‘empty’ seat.

“You didn’t watch my luggage.” The lady exclaimed.

P.S. I always wear a polka dot bowtie when travelling

Vanishing Frequent Flyers

I have been in Zürich this week because I’m trying to reduce my travel. In company-speak, I’m must reduce travel expenses. Last week I accomplished that goal by combining trips to London and Frankfurt. It costs less to fly Zürich-London-Frankfurt, with a 3 day stay in London, than it does to do a day trip between Zürich and Frankfurt. [A single airline flies between Frankfurt and Zürich; multiple carries fly the Zürich/London and the London/Frankfurt routes.]

The New Year brought unwelcome news about my Frequent Flyer status. I took seven (7) transatlantic trips last year as well as a veritable myriad of intra-European flights. Nevertheless, somehow I did not qualify for Platinium Elite status on SkyTeam. Equally befuddling, I was unable to retain Senator status on OneWorld. The travel division performed this miracle by ruthlessly negotiating prices so low that ‘reward’ miles didn’t count as “qualifying” miles.

Even worse, I currently have insufficient miles on either alliance to convey both Nazy and myself to the South Pacific (business class). So, since we want to holiday far away this year, we will have to choose to:

· Fly on separate airplanes – hardly romantic;
· Fly peon-class for 24 hours and across 9 time-zones.
· Purchase (ga$p!) bucket-class tickets using miles to upgrade.

There are disadvantages to each option. Of course…

“Couldn’t you just forgo your vacation, Dan?” The reader asks.

“Excuse me?” I reply – bewildered and bemused.

“The shambolic state of the global economy suggests that prudence and caution will be well-rewarded.”

“Nazy and I would be well-rewarded by a vacation in Australia and New Zealand,” I reply.

“The banking industry may collapse before..”

“The planet Venus, pictured at above, might collide with Earth leading to mass extinction – before Nazy and I have been to the South Pacific. It's a good idea to leave now.”