Why can’t there be a standard for
everything? I mean, why not? For instance, English people want to be different
and they have their weird ways such as driving on the wrong side of the road. But,
I digress. What I really want to talk about is my experience in Frankfurt, a
place I have never been before.
After deplaning from my Turkish
Airline flight from Ankara via Istanbul, I passed through passport control; so
far so good. I waited to get my luggage, which was somewhat delayed, but I had
no hassle. As I was going through customs, I asked the young lady in uniform packing
a gun holster on her side, “Can you tell me where ground transportation is?”
“Do I look like an information
officer? I am a customs officer.” All the while she spoke, she was blowing her
cigarette smoke towards my face.
“Yes! Yes! You are a customs officer
and a very rude one at that.” I replied and hurried up just in case my
confrontation was unpleasant to her. So went my first encounter with a female
German Customs Officer.
Then, I tried to find the shuttle to my
hotel. But it seemed impossible to figure out due to all the renovations and
construction going on. I knew I could eventually find out, but that would take
time, and I was simply quite exhausted from last night because I could not
sleep. Exasperated, I finally decided to take a taxi.
When I told the taxi driver I only had
US dollars and no Euro, the driver suggested that I go inside and exchange some
Euro for the fee. I did that, but when I came out, that driver was gone. My new
taxi driver took me to the hotel. I remember booking this hotel with my wife
and I was sure it indicated that the hotel was within walking distance.
Hah, far from it, unless they meant 14
miles was within walking distance. We finally arrived at the hotel and the
total was 14.65 Euro. I handed the driver 20 Euro and waited for my change. The
driver was puzzled, expecting a tip. When I realized what was happening, I gave
him the remaining change as well as the change I got from the exchange office.
I approached the registration desk
and fortunately was greeted by a very pleasant receptionist. I signed in, filling
out my address and all the other required info. I was assigned to room 224, which
I assumed was on the second floor. I got into the elevator, pressed the #2
button which took me two floors down. I quickly realized that I had pressed the
-2 button. I re-pushed the +2 button and as I came out of the elevator, I
noticed all the room numbers with in the 300’s.
How could I be on the third floor? I
got back in the elevator and noticed the buttons were 0 in the middle, +1 and
+2 above and -1 and -2 below. Technically, there was no third floor. I took the
elevator back down to 0 and returned to the receptionist. I asked her, “Is this ‘Candid Camera?’ I pushed +2 and it took me to the
third floor.”
She smiled and said, “Push the +1.” Now,
I have always respected German engineering. In my mechanical engineering career
I have seen some spectacular engineering works done by Germans. Okay! I finally
found my room and tried to push the card in to open the door. No way. There was
no place where the card could be inserted.
I thought to myself, ‘I don’t want to
go to the receptionist again. Think! Think!’ I shouted silently. I took my
glasses out so I could see; although it was still hard because the place where
the card was supposed to go was dark plastic. Finally, by accident, I figured
out that I had to insert the card vertically. So, finally I was inside my room
224, which turned out to be a pleasant room with a king size bed and all the
amenities.
The first thing on my mind was that I
was desperate to go to the bathroom. When I was finished, I looked around to
find where the button to flush was. To no avail, I could not find the button.
Okay. Okay. Why do Germans make everything so difficult?
I can say on one hand, I consider them
to be very smart people, but being smart means making everything difficult? I
don’t know. I would say yes and no. I can’t find a simple fricking flushing
button in a German hotel. I got up after the toilet ritual, staring at the
toilet trying to figure out how to flush it. I couldn’t find anything remotely
looking like a button.
Think, Behcet. Think! I was actually
shouting at myself. I guess my intellect was wandering around because I was in
desperation. Then I noticed something on the wall that looked like an outlined
tile. Now, think about it. All the tiles are the same but one tile was outlined
with a dark perimeter. I pushed the tile and the roaring sound of water
indicated the flushing.
During all my years in England, I always
thought the English people were arrogant and tried to be different than other
nations. But, with my experience here with Germans, well, I have changed my mind. Germans are more arrogant and ruder,
although they may be smart and hard working.
When I went down to have dinner, a young
lady approached to take my order. I asked her, “What
is the strongest beer you have?” Well, it turned out that their beer was not so
much different than ours. It did, however, made a strong impression on me, more
so than I had had during my younger years drinking German beer.
I literally got drunk, but, it was a
pleasant ‘drunkenness,’ and when I checked the bottle I found out that the beer
contained 11% alcohol…well, no wonder. I ordered a hamburger with fries and another
beer.
The waitress returned with a large
white cloth. Literally, it must have been 30” by 30” and covered half of the
table. I was debating about whether this was a napkin or a table cloth, but since
there was already a white linen tablecloth on the table and since I had nothing
else to use…I have no idea why Germans think that they need such a large napkin
to use during dinner.
My food arrived and another
interesting thing was the way the French fries were served. They were placed
into a conical cardboard contraption, then into an apparatus of steel wired
housing, covering almost every inch of the plate. The hamburger was on the
side. I found this to be not really ecstatically pleasing or of any practical
use.
It just seemed simply like a cumbersome
and unnecessary thing to do. I think a hamburger on a plate with French fries
is still the best, though - one compliments the other. Again my impression of
Germans was wrong. All these years I thought of Germans as practical, smart and
efficient. I had this notion working with German engineers and how smart they were.
Now I am disappointed.
The next afternoon, I boarded my
flight that would take me back across the pond to home. As I settled in, the
flight attendants offered orange juice and Champagne. “No, thank you,” I replied. I planned to wait for my wine. Time
passed pleasantly and I noticed time to destination was 05:15. The flight data
read: ground speed 872 km/h, tail wind 53 km/h, and outside temperature about
-87 degree F.
We were at an altitude of 10,362m high
(about 34,005 feet). Distance to destination 4,174 km and the distance from origin
2,044 km. One more item I liked to include was the Longitude 20 57` 24” w
Latitude 56 9` 35 – obviously I did not write it down properly.
I want to say something very
important. While I was enjoying my favorite wine, I felt as though I was in the
‘Twilight Zone.’ I think most people get drunk after a
few glasses of wine. For me, when I am happy and traveling from Europe to New
York in business class on Delta airlines, I feel very sharp in my head. Drunk? Maybe.
Tipsy? I would say, a little, but very, very concentrated.
As I lifted my head up, my flight data
showed: Time to destination 04:03. We were now half way across the Atlantic Ocean.
I began to notice every minute detail around me. I chose another glass of Pinot
Noir; perfect for the main course of Fillet Mignon with exotic side dishes.
The flight attendant who was serving
me was blond and thin. The only difference between her and my wife was her hair;
hers was short, just coming down to her chin and straight all around. It was
pleasant and I think when I get home I am going ask my wife to grown her hair
out like that.
Later, when I went to use the
bathroom, I whispered in the flight attendant’s ear that she could pass as my
wife’s twin. She smiled, but did not know what to say. I returned to my seat,
sat down, closed my eyes and entered my ‘Twilight Zone,’ imagining that I took
her to a private room in the aircraft and made love to her. For a moment, I couldn’t
differentiate between her from my wife; it was like making love to both.
This was my imagination; I was free
thinking, then I drifted away. Rudely, I was awakened when the aircraft hit
some turbulence. Briefly, I felt my wife slap my face and chide me never to bring
her (the flight attendant) into my imagination ever again. But, I didn’t think
about that, as I was wide awake again. Only another 03:13 and I will be home to
my beautiful wife.