It’s my turn, today, to join my fellow Crooked Cat authors
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stories, non- fiction articles and poems.
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Heidelberg |
The Xmas Surprise
Sunday 21st October, 2001, Frankfurt Hahn
Airport.
Everywhere.
Fully armed security screamed at her tired eyes. At entrance
doors they were expected but the rash on the floor of the huge concourse
wasn’t. Airports always had security but rarely had Mrs. J been anywhere that
had quite so many highly visible armed personnel. Green khaki was intermittently
broken by uniforms in a dull brown and some even wore other paler hues. She
couldn’t tell the difference between army, armed police and the more usual airport
security guards. However, noting the fine nuances of clothing didn’t matter one
whit - they all carried the kind of very large semi- automatic weapons that
seemed to take two hands to bear the weight at the front. Of course, for all
she knew about guns they could easily have been automatic ones. Terminology
aside they intimidated, as intended.
The 4 a.m. coach from Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof train station
had just deposited her at Frankfurt Hahn’s International Departures where she
and her younger daughter, Sheena, were checking in for their return flight to Prestwick, Scotland.
Making her way to the check-in desk, she reflected that the
extra security was a necessary measure to ensure passenger safety, given the
recent horrific events of 9/11, still too fresh to make flying comfortable. She
was so glad that the heavy armed presence hadn’t been visible in Heidelberg: nothing like
that had impinged on the fabulous holiday that they’d just had. The five full
days spent in Heidleberg with her elder daughter, Fiona, had been just what was
needed to recharge their batteries before she went back to her teaching job the
following day and Sheena back to her course at Aberdeen University.
Check-in was efficient; though possibly a tad slower than during
other holidays.
Breakfast was next since a full feed at 3 am hadn’t been
appealing.
A couple of hours later, they were close to boarding. The
flight was still delayed by some twenty minutes but in the grand scheme of
things that wasn’t so bad. As she settled down beside Sheena on the bench
seating, she surveyed the pre - boarding lounge. She’d had the experience of
being in a lot of airports over the previous three decades and had noted that the
accommodations varied tremendously. This one was a bit like being in a very
bare goldfish bowl. Looking back towards the automatic door that she’d recently
entered through, there were two armed security personnel stationed at both the
inside and the outside. The fully glazed walls gave way to the view outside of
other passengers walking towards their own boarding lounges. Silently, of
course, since the sound insulation was amazingly good.
The fact that the swell of people in the goldfish bowl sat
in almost total silence, all added to the other-worldly eeriness of the
experience. Of course, everyone looked half asleep as she must also do.
On the opposite side of the room was another totally glazed
wall with one regular manual open/shut door. Again, it was guarded by two armed
female officers to the inside, weapons at the ready. Behind the glass walls was
a narrow, completely silent and empty corridor. The far wall was of basic
undecorated grey breeze blocks. Mrs. J idly reckoned it probably led straight
to the access gangways for entering the aeroplanes. At least she hoped so
because it might mean less of a walk to get on to the plane.
Alongside her, Sheena nudged against her shoulder, snuggled
in to her neck and then closed her eyes.
***
The short week had been fabulous. A small smile was
suppressed as Mrs. J thought about the touristy things they’d done with Fiona who
was studying at Heidelberg
University for that
academic year. They’d packed a lot into the days, working around the times that
Fiona spent in classes and tutorials, since she wasn’t on holiday.
Mrs. J & 2 daughters |
Heidelberg
was such a fabulous town to visit.
The shops in the old town were amazing. Moving from one to
another was a joy and that was pretty astonishing because Mrs. J wasn’t
normally a browser. Since her daughters had hit their early teens, she’d volunteered
to wash windows, do the ironing, clean the oven, do almost anything, rather
than shop with them. Wandering around and trying on just about everything
before they eventually made up their minds bored Mrs. J something awful - but Heidelberg shopping was
different.
Jewellery had twinkled from behind many windows. Clothing
was draped artistically on inside racks of the small clothing boutiques, often
with hanging rails at the doors for easy handling and inspection of the
fabrics. There were specialist this and specialist that outlets. The shops were
very individual and some of them were probably entirely unique. Mrs. J had
found that it had been surprisingly good fun wandering around with two
twenty-ish year olds and living it through their eyes.
The three of them had spent some time in the fancy liquor
store- the D-I-Y sort of shop for specialist drinks. Resembling a winery,
inside the shop you could choose everything that you personally wanted- the
bottle shape, its size and its contents. Small gift options were possible for
tourists aware of avoiding excess baggage weight. Attractively shaped bottles were
filled from the vats and barrels set around the room in an almost festive
display – even though it wasn’t a festival time in Heidelberg. The locals, according to Fiona,
also used the shop to fill their much larger demijohns and litre sized
containers with their favourite tipples. Most of the drink options had English
translations below but when they didn’t it was just as well that Fiona could translate.
Combinations of sloes, logan,
cloud, juniper berries and many more were quite mind boggling: the images
portrayed often looking exactly the same. Purple berries and even more juicily purple
berries!
Naturally, a sampling of the products was a huge part of the
experience.
And then…there had been that magical All Year Round
Christmas Store.
Fiona had warned her when they stopped at the doorway. “This
is the most amazing shop. You’ll never want to leave but we have to get to our
table at the beer keller in an hour or it’ll be given to someone else, though
if you don’t spend too long, you can have a quick look.”
It was magical. Every floor was stuffed with Christmas
goodies - some seriously expensive and only for the most ardent collectors, but
other items were affordable.
“What’s taking you so long?” Sheena was clearly desperate to
get to Fiona’s favourite student beer haunt.
Mrs. J had laughed at her eagerness, and told her younger
daughter she would be done paying very soon.
***
“Mum!” She felt Sheena’s head nudge her arm as she straightened
up. “That’s your name they’re calling.”
Mrs. J had a tendency to tune out airport announcements
because they were rarely clear enough to understand them.
“Me? Why me?” She was jolted out of her reverie.
Sheena urged her up and towed her over to the gate check-in
assistant. “I don’t know but they're not happy.”
At the desk, the airline assistant was calling her name a
second time... and very stern about it. “You are Mrs. J?”
Answering was more than a wee bit difficult because the two armed officers who were at the long corridor door marched across towards her. By the time she confirmed she was the person they were calling for, a high degree of panic had set in.
“You will follow us!”
The weapon was twitching, one of the officers burbling into the microphone attached to her uniform.
Bundled into the corridor with Sheena, via the
manually opened door, two more armed personnel thumped their booted feet down towards her. In the firm grip of one of them dangled her suitcase that she'd checked in more than two hours previously. The case was laid down on the corridor tiling.
“Open it!” demanded one of the female officers, a figure who might have moonlighted as a sumo wrestler.
Another chipped in, just as intimidating and frozen faced. “Slowly.”
In a complete tizzy, Mrs. J panicked a glance at Sheena. “Is it my
hairdryer? Should I have put it in my hand luggage?” Utterly inane things were
jumping out at her because she had no idea why this was happening.
Gritted teeth whispered back. Sheena was the practical,
pragmatic one of the family. “Mum, it’s not your stupid hairdryer. Just open
the bloody thing.”
The key trembling in her hand Mrs. J opened the suitcase,
mortified because she knew what was on the top layer. The smelliest items would
be first in the washing machine when she got home.
“Remove them. Show what is beneath. ” The officer’s English
was good enough to get her point over… and the only other good thing about the
whole affair was that it wasn’t a male officer seeing the dirty knickers.
Hastily Mrs. J shoved the top layer onto the opened lid of
the suitcase, gradually revealing a white plastic bag. As she peeled off more
items, the logo of the bag became more visible.
What seemed to be guttural German passed between the four
officers.
“Open the bag.”
As requested Mrs. J opened the bag and took out a myriad of
tiny parcels. The grunts of frustration around her were unmistakable.
“You will remove the paper!”
There was never a please nor a thank you, only grim
expressions which were becoming more annoyed as the seconds passed. After about
the twentieth small package had the tissue paper removed from it, one of the
officers barked at the others. Her gun twitched that everything should be put
back into the case.
More burbling into microphones.
Little more was said. The case was filled and locked again.
It was carted off by the one who had delivered it. Using mute signals only, Mrs. J
and Sheena were escorted back into the now emptying goldfish bowl.
It goes without saying that they were last onto the plane.
***
On the last day of the school term before the Christmas
break, Mrs. J’s Primary Seven class of 12 year olds had the usual party in
their classroom in the afternoon. Her normal practice was to have the clear up
done and dusted around fifteen minutes before the 'home time' bell, that small slot just
enough to give out her Christmas gifts to her pupils. It was her habit to wrap
and label each parcel with the recipients name on it and present it
individually. That year was a little different.
She ensured she had a few extra minutes to spare.
“You’ll maybe have heard from previous Primary Sevens that I
try to give you all something hand-picked by me as a Christmas keepsake?”
She went on to relate to them that their Christmas gift was
so unique it came with a story as well. Inside each parcel was a specially chosen tree ornament. Trains,
Santas, cars, sleighs, baubles, trees, animals… Each one had been bought with care and stored with care. Each
one had had new tissue paper wrapped around it since the original had been
shredded in a Frankfurt Hahn airport corridor.
Her last words to the pupils before they left were to the
tune of…Have a happy holiday and if you should be flying anywhere during the
two week break, make sure that you have ZERO metal in your hold baggage.
Those tiny tree decorations were mostly made of wood but a
few weren’t quite. Some were of the thinnest metal and some had the tiniest
pins holding wheels together.
Airport security was so efficient that the 35 tiny ornaments
had triggered the metal detectors.
A red face it had been, but a salutary one.
***
p.s. I hope that some of those ornaments might have been treasured
because that was the general intention.
Mrs. J had 33 pupils that year. Here are the other two
ornaments which go onto her Christmas tree every year - just to remind her that
sometimes a red face isn’t so bad after all.
I think I bought this Christmas cloth in that Heidelberg shop too, though it may have been the one inVienna. Vienna is a city that also appears in Topaz Eyes...but that visit for Mrs. J was a different holiday.
*insert smiley face here* I'll need to write another true story about that holiday some other Christmas!
I think I bought this Christmas cloth in that Heidelberg shop too, though it may have been the one inVienna. Vienna is a city that also appears in Topaz Eyes...but that visit for Mrs. J was a different holiday.
*insert smiley face here* I'll need to write another true story about that holiday some other Christmas!
Please keep checking in to the Christmas with the Crooked Cats for more stories and poems!
Slainthe!
What a scary experience for you, Nancy.
ReplyDeleteAfter the death of Osama Bin Laden, it was said (I forget by whom) that he shouldn't have been killed - he should have been taken alive, and forced to spend the rest of his life going through airport security :-)
Sue- That's something I wouldn't want to repeat but justice is another thing.
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