So about 24 hours ago I was nervously sitting in the Paris airport thinking that in a few hours I’d be in Tallinn ready to start a new adventure. I had no idea that I’d actually be sitting in the Copenhagen airport accumulating those mini airplane alcohols to make the time pass.

So mid-flight somewhere over who knows where they announce that the auto-pilot has ceased to function, and that we’d be making a stop in Copenhagen to check up on it. Well at that precise moment my stomach dropped as the airplane started descending in a very abrupt manner. Never have I realized the benefit of autopilot, meaning I’ve never felt so stick during a landing in my entire life.

After a landing that made me almost reach for the puke bag, they informed us that we’d be staying the night in Copenhagen (at their expense of course!). A little disappointed, but too exhausted to complain. At that point I was rather impressed with the airlines efficiency and ability to handle a problem, a positive impression short lived…

This morning we were supposed to get information by 7 am, which became 8 am, which became “go to the airport for more information”. A flurry of passengers racing to get taxis, as if the first come first served rule was going to be applied. Only to learn at arrival that a team effort was going to be the only way out of this mess. Running around in different directions trying to get information from someone, which was only accomplished hours later. How so? Obtaining a “secret” phone number that only had one person on the other line to answer the 40 and some calls coming in. Because, seeing as Copenhagen is not a routine stop for the particular airline they had no ticket counter meaning no one able to help us out of the situation.

After finally get a seat on a flight that would get me to Tallinn 24 hours later than expected, I ended up sitting around with a few other passengers and got to meet some pretty nice people. One, a plastic surgeon, decided it would be a fun idea to start showing me photos of a tummy tuck operation she did a few days ago. (Thank you Grey’s anatomy for preparing me for such gruesome images!) Another came up and started blabbering in another language until I waved my hand in a “no understand” motion. She said she could have sworn I was Estonian by how I looked. I guess when I get to Tallinn I’ll just nod my head and pretend to understand, I’ll blend right in as long as I don’t open my mouth.



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