Germany: The Departure, May 8

On a fairly last minute whim, I convinced my friend Brandon to allow me to visit him in southern Germany for a much-anticipated vacation. In reality, it wasn't hard to convince him - Brandon lived in Germany for four years because of work, and he had always offered me the opportunity to visit. Feeling the extreme necessity to escape my job, Memphis, and the American lifestyle for a few days, it seemed like an opportunity I couldn't resist. I found a great flight deal and everything seemed to fall into place.

On Thursday, I packed my suitcase in stellar fashion. Honestly, the pack-job was impressive. It must be noted how outstanding I was able to roll my clothes and fit them like pieces to a puzzle strategically within the suitcase.

Anyway, I set off to the airport early to make sure my travel day was as stress-free as possible. I got to the airport with good timing, basically before the businessmen and their afternoon flights. I grabbed a quick lunch, watched some CNN International, and settled in for an hour or so to watch the usual airport chaos.

I knew I had exactly one hour between my connecting flight, which basically meant I should have enough time to get off one plane, walk down the corridor, use the restroom, and get settled on my flight to Germany.

So much for stress-free.

There was chaos on my first flight. For starters, the plane we were to take landed late, and the turnaround was awful. On top of that, the first captain had to be switched because the original's wife went into labor and he had to leave the cockpit. Next, there were eight flight attendants scurrying about the plane, trying to figure out who would actually be the crew for the flight. Then, it took four staff members another 15 minutes to help a wheelchair passenger onto the tiny plane. Needless to say, we were extremely behind departure time and schedule, and I was in panic mode. I was texting my roommate furiously, asking her to use the internet to gauge my plane's actual take off, hoping that I wouldn't miss my second flight.

Once we finally took off, I was able to calculate that I had exactly no time to spare once the plane landed. No joke, I had no buffer zone. When we pulled into the gate at 5:15pm, I knew the majority of my fellow passengers to Frankfurt would already be boarded. Once I was able to get off the plane, I had to sprint down the terminal a distance of 30 gates. Mind you, I haven't actually sprinted since the gruesome days of high school track in 1999. Thankfully, I wore sneakers instead of flip flops. But seriously, I was in a dead out sprint to the gate, and I wanted to die. My chest actually burned from all of the air I was sucking to make it to the gate on time.

I showed up with seconds to spare. The nice flight attendant at the door even allowed me to use the restroom before the eight-hour flight. As soon as I took my seat, the last call was made, the doors were closed, and I was able to sigh significant relief that I was on the plane. My throat hurt from sucking so much wind, and I was actually starting to sweat, but I was seated, belt and all, and ready for my flight to Frankfurt.