Open Door, Throw Out Rope

Three years ago I flew from Bucharest, Romania to Sofia, Bulgaria. I actually flew a Bulgarian airline, and if anyone has actually flown an airline that isn't American (I am not talking British Air people) you will find it always an adventure. All the instructions were in Bulgarian. Since I have flown a lot I just imagined what the words meant..."Life jacket under seat cushion"...etc. I ended up sitting in an exit row and as usual there were instructions about what to do in an emergency. Usually it says something like "In case of emergency open door and wait for raft to inflate" or something to that nature. I am not sure what the words said in Bulgarian, but underneath in little letters it was written in English "In case of emergency, open door and throw out rope." Throw out rope? Good grief!


This past week Dave and I went on our last childless vacation (Lord willing). We booked a week at an all inclusive resort on the Turkish Riviera. I know, I know, none of you even knew that Turkey had a Riviera! In any case we flew MNG Air (which is Turkish) from Frankfurt to Antalya. As we flew I was remembering my experience on the Bulgarian airline. This airplane was an old American plane (hopefully not discarded for mechanical reasons) so most of the writing was in English.

It wasn't until we arrived in Antalya that our true emergency began. I know that we have written before about experiences with travel agents. We did book this trip through a German travel agent and it so happened that everyone thought we were German and so either spoke to us in Turkish or in German. We understand that we are ignorant Americans who understand neither...la pluma es en la puerta?

We arrived at the Antalya airport 2 hours later than expected and by the time we found our bags and the bus it was 0245 (that means in the morning!). We dragged our weary bodies on the bus and waited. We were on the bus headed to Topkapi Palace in Aksu. Soon about 10 other Germans joined us and a Turkish man came on board and in perfect (I imagine) German began his speech. As he talked he handed out a brochure (in German) for Venezia Palace. We asked for something in English, but he didn't seem obliged to help us. He continued on speaking for several minutes and Dave and I began to pick out several key phrases. The Venezia Palace was a 3 minute drive from Topkapi. The other thing we caught was that there was going to be some meeting at 1230 the next day and it involved food. He finished and got off the bus. Dave and I looked at each other. Dave is usually the better one at understanding what is going on, and his assessment seemed reasonable. He figured that this was some sort of promotional thing, if we wanted we could go and eat lunch and get a tour of the Venezia Palace tomorrow. It seemed reasonable and since we had failed to get anyone to tell us what was going on in English figured that was the answer.

Imagine our surprise at 0330 when we turned into the driveway of what looked like the Venezia Palace. We were taken off the bus and deposited in the reception area. Everyone else was checking in, so we figured we should follow. When we got to the desk I said "Is this the Topkapi Palace? We are suppose to be staying at the Topkapi Palace." The Turkish man smiled and said "Do not worry my friend." OK...whatever the heck that means! We get our key and drag our exhausted bodies up to the room where we again tried to figure out what was happening while we waited for the bellman to bring our luggage.

I was angry...not a good combo...tired...pregnant...angry. We had paid for a vacation in a great resort that had all the ammenities. I was suppose to be able to get a free haircut at the Topkapi and if I couldn't get one here someone was going to hear about it!

As we were waiting for our bags, Dave discovered that our key card said it was good from 10/1 until 10/2. That seemed to mean we would be there for one night. That made me even more upset. No one told us we needed to check out. It was nearing 0500 and there was no way I getting up before 1400 (2pm). Our luggage finally made it to the room after 0500 and Dave handed the bello boy a tip as well as a note for the reception desk. It asked them to simply explain what we were suppose to do and to slide the note back under our door, so we would know if we needed to check out in the morning or not.

At 0730 Dave got up and checked for a note, which of course wasn't there. He called down to the desk and found out that yes, we did need to check out at 1200. I finally dragged out of bed at 1000. We got ready, repacked and went to check out and find some breakfast. As we checked out we were informed that there were not any restaurants open at the moment.

OK, do I need to refresh anyone's memory that we have a tired, angry pregnant lady here. Who currently struggles with all-day-sickness even in her 19th week of pregnancy. And I haven't eaten since 6 o' clock the night before. I lost it and informed my husband, in no uncertain terms, that if he knew what was good for himself he had better find me something to eat. I then proceeded to sit down near the front desk of the hotel lobby and sulk. Open door...throw out rope!!!!!

The whole time Dave was gone I tried to convince myself that it was going to be OK, but I just couldn't. I felt at any moment I would blow. Probably not only chunks (of nothing since I hadn't eaten) but also tears. My eyes were red and brimming with tears when Dave walked back with a glass of water and a bag of nacho cheese doritos. So I did the only reasonable thing I could at that point. I began to sob. Yes, shaking sob right in the middle of the hotel lobby, right near the front desk while hundreds of people were checking out.

I have never been in Dave's position, but he said, as people walked by or turned to look, he got the "What the heck have you done to her?" stare. The "what a jerk" stare.

I finally got control of myself while poor Dave assured me it had to get better. I was ready to get back on that MNG flight to Frankfurt. We loaded the bus to Topkapi Palace and lived 6 days happily ever after. No more crying! And I did get my promised hair cut.