Flight from Denver to O'Hare
The alarm goes off at an ungodly hour. I squint my eyes at the bright glare of my phone screen with the alarm buzzing to announce that it is 2:30am. My bags are already packed. All there is to do this morning is to freshen myself up, eat breakfast, and go to the airport. My husband groans next to me, also slow exit the bed this early. We manage to, because we have to, Jeremiah drops me off at 3:30am at Denver International Airport. I'm honestly frightened and it shows on my face as he gives me reassuring kisses and tells me he will see me in two weeks. Those two weeks are feeling very heavy in this moment. You see, I'm not just going to Greece on holiday, we are also starting our IVF adventure there. I am fortunate enough to work a remote job and can work from there. Jeremy, however, has to stay behind and will use two weeks of PTO to join me later on.
I check my bag with United Airlines, and I join the security line which is obnoxiously long for this early. The line is going back to the luggage carousels where arrivals pick up their checked luggage. I finally make it through after what feels like forever and a half, and make my way to the terminal. I get a mocha and an apple danish from Caribou Coffee before arriving to my gate right before boarding begins.
I board the plane, and there is already a man sitting in the row that my seat is in. I always purchase window seats, and he is on the aisle. I already realize I'm missing my other half when I have to ask this stranger to hold my coffee so that I can put my backpack in the overhead bin. He gives me a strange look, but complies against what seems to be his desire to not be involved. He hands me back my coffee, steps out, and I slide on in to the window, sipping on my coffee, and just staring out into the world. I'm sure my husband is already back in bed, snoozing the morning away.
No one ends up sitting in the middle, so it's just coffee-holder-man and myself. Neither one of us try to make any conversation. I think I already ruined the opportunity for any human interaction between us when I asked him to hold my coffee. Thankfully, it's a short flight to Chicago.
Flight from O'Hare to Istanbul
I get off the plane and start to head to the gate for my next flight. I am dismayed to find out that I have to leave the airport, take a train to terminal 5, and go back through security. I feel it is very inefficient and not a good customer experience for flyers. I immediately dislike O'Hare due to this.
I get on the train. I must have started at terminal one, because the train goes to terminal two next. Then it goes to three, then to five? Wait a minute, there was no four. Terminal four apparently used to be the international terminal, but when they built five, they saw no use for four anymore. Now it just sits there, obsolete.
Exiting the train, I make my way to the security line for terminal five. This line is long, but I have time. I board my very first Turkish Airlines plane and make my way to my window seat. On the seat is a blanket and a pillow - how nice! I get settled in with my puzzle book, The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, and my Nintendo Switch. I know I won't sleep on this international flight, so I want to make sure I'm prepared to be entertained. A mother and daughter take the middle and aisle seats in my row, and I start the Hobbit Trilogy on my screen.
Our flight takes off, and as we get to altitude, we are fed our first meal on the flight. The meals are served according to the time in Istanbul, so we are fed dinner. We are provided with a menu with a variety of options, which I am very impressed by. I order the cod with carrots, mushrooms, potatoes, and a dinner roll. It is honestly delicious. The flight attendants come by and pick up our dinner trays, and then shortly after hand us all these goody bags that contain slippers, socks, eye masks, earplugs, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and chapstick. Amazing!
I work on my puzzle book, watch my movies, play games on the screen, and check the flight's tracker. I have the window blind open as it is dark outside of the plane, and I watch as the moon passes over the wing. I watch the sun start to rise, but I close the blind before it gets too bright to be respectful to my row-mates whom are both sleeping.
Not too long after the sun is in the sky, the cabin lights are turned on, and breakfast starts to make its way through the cabin. I order a cheesy omelet, fruit, and a cheese plate. Again, all delicious.
The cabin crew starts to make announcements about how our flight is taking longer than originally expected, and that most of us will miss our connecting flights if we have them. I immediately tense up, because I have never had to deal with this before on my own. The mom and daughter duo next to me start discussing how they will get to Athens for vacation. They ask me where I'm going, and when I mention I'm going to Thessaloniki for IVF treatment, the mom casually responds, "That's a long way to go for something that might not work." Yeah, thanks for that, stranger. Very helpful.
I know I'm going to miss my flight before I'm even off of the plane. I was supposed to have an hour layover in Istanbul, but we are still in the air when I'm supposed to be boarding my flight to Thessaloniki. I receive a text alert from Turkish Airlines that they moved me to the 8:00pm flight, and I sit in my seat feeling distraught. It's only 8:00am now. That's twelve whole hours.
Istanbul International Airport
I'm in zero hurry to get off the plane, so I take my time. I potentially have twelve whole hours. By this time, I've been awake for about twenty hours, so I'm not doing so hot. I get off the plane, and make a long trek down to Turkish Airline's Customer Care counter. My turn comes to talk to an agent, and the lack of control over my emotions due to how tired I am takes over. I tear up as I explain to the agent what has happened and show her my new flight information. Do I need to do anything with my checked luggage? Are there any earlier flights I can take to get to Thessaloniki sooner? The answer to both of my questions is no. Sniffling, I thank her for her time, and I spot a Starbucks. I order myself an emotional support vanilla latte.
I really, really have to pee, and I despise using public bathrooms. I have a bit of childhood bathroom trauma I carry with me as an adult, and I avoid using public restrooms whenever possible. For the most part, it is very possible, I have a strong bladder. However, twenty-one-ish hours is a lot to ask of anyone's bladders. I find a restroom, and it is packed. My heart is thumping in my chest as my anxiety starts to rise, but one door is open. I rush to it, slam the door shut behind me, bolt it locked, and turn around. My jaw drops open and I can feel myself about to cry, again. There's no toilet in this stall. There's just a tiled square built into the floor.
Oh, no. Oh, please, no. Oh, please, please, PLEASE, for the love of all that is good in the world, WHY?
I have never once in my life squatted to pee. I am not a camping girly, I have had zero reason to learn this skill. Afraid that I will get urine on my clothing, I completely strip the bottom half of my body naked. I squat. I pee. I immediately feel relief, and yet traumatized by this experience all at once. I quickly redress myself, push a button that flushes the tiled square in the floor, and try to leave my stall with what little dignity I feel left within myself. A woman across the aisle is also leaving her stall at the same time. Behind her, I spy a toilet. WHY ME?!
I exit the bathroom, rethinking my life choices that have lead up to this moment. I go find a spot to sit down, lugging my carry on bag and my personal bag around. Istanbul doesn't have easily accessible Wifi - you must go to a tower, get a code that lasts an hour, and repeat as needed. Everyone I know back home is asleep, so I watch Twitch for a bit, and then go to a nearby restaurant called The House Café. I order myself a glass of Rosé Zinfandel with a chicken Caesar salad. I sit there for quite a while afterwards thinking that they will bring me the check. This never happens - I end up having to ask for it. Is this a cultural difference in dining experiences?
I walk around a bit more to keep myself awake. It's now about noon in Istanbul and I have been awake for about twenty-four hours. I take a break from walking - I am exhausted. I work on my puzzle book, but my eyelids start to get heavy. I get up and go window shopping. The whole central area of the airport is like a designer mall, it's full of luxury brands that are for one, out of my budget, and secondly, not my taste. Maybe I'm just not stylish.
I go find a bar stool height seat and counter top with outlets to charge my phone. I sit down, but it's so uncomfortable, that it doesn't take me long before I go to find a normal seat with an accompanying outlet available. I sit down, but there's a man that won't stop smiling and looking at me, so I move again to another area to sit. I pull my puzzle book back out, and start to nod off again. I know I won't make it much longer before I just fall asleep somewhere. I'm now at 26 hours of being awake. I trudge off, looking for a semi-private place to sleep.
Something exponentially better than a semi-private spot on the floor appears before me. Sleep Pods! You have to pay for them, but they are not expensive and are well worth the money. I pay for two hours and I'm lead to this enclosed pod-shaped wooden structure that you have to climb into. You climb into it from the foot of the twin-sized bed, so only your feet stick out. I drag my bags into the pod with me, I'm too paranoid to leave them out. I set an alarm, and I take a very restless two hour nap. The kind of nap where you keep waking up, and doesn't provide any kind of rest.
I am starving. My gate hasn't been announced yet for my departing flight, so I'm free to go wherever I want within the airport. Having all the choices available to me, I settle on Arby's. Again, questioning my life choices here. The fries are good, but the roast beef is extremely fatty which nothing like the roast beef sandwiches we get in the States. I do, interestingly enough, receive ketchup and mayonnaise cups from a brand called Colorado. How coincidental.
While I am eating, I get a phone call from my parents. I chat with them, and then walk the digital versions of them through the airport, showing them the shops and such. After my parents and I hang up, Jeremy calls me - what great timing! He and I video-chat until my boarding begins.
Flight from Istanbul to Thessaloniki
Thirty-one hours. Twenty-nine if you count the two hour nap. I'm finally on the flight to Thessaloniki. I'm so happy to be on the plane, I almost feel hysterical. I'm honestly ready to take my first-ever airplane nap, but a flight attendant stops by and asks me to unplug my phone for safety reasons. She explains that I can plug it back in once we take off, but they don't want a cord blocking my exit in the event there is a safety issue and we need to get off the plane before it leaves the tarmac. Interesting - I guess airlines in America don't care! Ope.
Our flight takes off, and I plug my phone back in. We make it up to altitude, and the flight attendants come to serve a meal. Wow - I was not expecting another meal. It's a very short flight. We are served a mozzarella cheese sandwich, a chicken salad, chocolate mousse, and water in what I can only describe as a pudding cup. I barely finish eating when the attendants come back through to pick up trash. Then, descent begins. No nap for me, but honestly I'm not sure if I'd be able to at this point - I'm so excited to be so close to my destination!
Thessaloniki to Peraia
We land and we get to exit the plane out on the tarmac. I absolutely LOVE to do this. Descending the stairs and walking from the tarmac to the airport terminal always feels so Hollywood Golden Age to me. Am I the only one that feels this way? We all follow a path to Passport Control. I'm one of two people with a non-European passport, so I get to join a very short line. Score! The man in front of me is being asked the usual questions - "What is the reason for your visit?" "How long do you plan on your visit being?" You know, the normal questions. He hastily answers and soon it's my turn.
I stroll up to the counter, prepared from eavesdropping on the other non-European, feeling like I'm about to pass a test. The Passport Control Officer looks at me, looks at my passport photo, and stamps my book. No words were exchanged.
Making my way to the luggage carousel, I'm hoping beyond hope that my checked bag will appear. A twelve hour layover is a long time, and who knows all the room for error that leaves for luggage to get lost. I don't. The buzzer sounds, announcing the arrival of the bags. Thrice I see a small blue suitcase go around, and around. My hopes start to sink as other fliers are able to leave the airport, their checked luggage acquired by the steel carousel. Then, I see it. My beautiful, gorgeous suitcase, a scarf tied tightly around the cloth handle to be able to easily identify it from a distance. I'm so overjoyed that I involuntarily squeak.
I exit the airport and go outside to find there's a designated waiting line for taxis. Perfect. It's soon my turn and I hop into the taxi to find that the driver hardly speaks any English. That's okay, I don't expect him to, and I was prepared for this. I show him the address for my VRBO on my phone, and he plugs it into his and off we go! I keep a route open on my phone as well to help ensure I wasn't being taken advantage of, or kidnapped. Have I mentioned I'm a bit paranoid? The driver is a very honest man though, and takes me directly to the VRBO.
We arrive outside of the building - it's an apartment building, and I know it's the right one based on the photos available on the VRBO website. The owner of the place is not there yet, though, and the driver is very reluctant to leave me on my own. He walks around the entire building. He takes my bags out of the car and puts them inside of the gated plaza area, which isn't locked, takes a long look at me and asks, "Okay?" I nod and respond with "Okay." He glances back over his shoulder like he doesn't want to leave me stranded all alone, but does leave. I think he's very kind.
I take photographs of the flowers in the garden of the apartment complex. A few moments later, Daniela, the owner, arrives. She lets me in, gives me a brief tour, hands me the keys, and leaves. I unpack, I shower, so relieved to be here. It's now about thirty-four hours since I last properly slept. I call Jeremy, then my parents, to let them all know I have arrived safely. After hanging up from the calls, I know I should go to sleep, but I am so thirsty. Thankfully, there's a place down on the corner by the beach that sells bottled water. I purchase two bottles, make my way back up to the apartment, and collapse in bed. It's time for the sleep I so desperately need.
