The Galacon/Sicily trip, Part 3: Germany: to swim among a sea of stars · 9:20pm February 7th
Travel: that state in which nothing works out exactly as planned. For better and for worse, occasionally at the same time.
I tried to plan, and the universe laughed. But I was still out there. And the most you can ever hope for is that moment of purest beauty.
September 18th & 19th
One last bath for the road.
It's not as if I can count on getting another tub for the rest of the trip. I have one more hotel booked, and that's tonight. In fact, it's the only four-star I managed to get during the careful Must Have A Place To Sleep assembly, and that means it came in around $112 for the stay: breakfast included. Every other place I'll sleep at is cheaper, and I managed to get under $100 per night on average through booking -- bed & breakfast places. The whole of Sicily is B&Bs, and that's going to locate a few delights while causing a lot of problems. But... this is how I have to budget matters. It took a lot of tips (and guilt) to get me here. Those funds have to take me across the entire duration of the trip.
I do have two circumstances in which I'll have to ask for fiscal help. One is the truly unexpected expense: I accidentally come across something which I must do, must avoid, must get fixed. The other is my nightmare: covid. If I test positive before the flight home, then -- well, I took flight insurance. (For my last plane, that was through a third party, and we'll talk about that @$%^ing airline when we get there.) So I'll have a ride. But I'll still be stuck in isolation for a few days. Surprise hotel and food delivery costs.
In terms of activities, this was designated as the Free Space day -- and that held true even before I took the chance on adding Sicily to the trip. As with Seattle, I arranged to have some time for just being in the area. There's been a lot of talk about what I might do today. At one point, I was on track for the Pig Museum. Then it turned out that the museum -- in fact, every museum in the area -- is closed on Mondays.
So that gives me the general Stuttgart region, and that's a problem in itself. It's sort of like NYC in that if you locate something twenty miles out, the map may still designate it as 'Stuttgart'. (Right, FIFA?) And the chat server kept talking about the options...
My current problem is the weather. There's a 40% chance of rain for most of the morning, and I can see a storm moving in on the radar. Things might clear by afternoon, and then the night will be dry.
(...)
And after all of the discussion, the chat server came down to two options. The first is the Wilhelma Zoo & Botanical Gardens. Rain will impact this. Poorly.
The second? Well, some of you already see me as an anime character, so let's have a hot springs episode.
...okay, I can't get to an actual hot spring. But there are mineral baths in the area. In fact, when you see 'bad' as a terminal syllable for a town name, there's a good chance that it's representing 'bath'. I've never been to that sort of thing and as with so much else here, I might never have the chance again. So the current plan is to wait for 8 a.m. because that's when breakfast is served and therefore, there might be someone at the front desk to check me out. Then head for the train, reach Stuttgart proper as the transportation hub, and -- if possible -- find a bank. I'm starting to run low on cash. There's still trip funds on my debit account, but I need Euros in-pocket and ideally, I'd like to compress my 0.01 through 0.20E coins into larger denominations. Once that's done, pick a mineral bath and ask Siri for the bus/train route there.
Pack up. Make sure everything's out of the hotel room, and do it slowly because I'm feeling a little light-headed. The cumulative lack of dinner is starting to hit me, and the trail mix can only do so much. Head down, waiting for the elevator because the suitcase on the windabout steps is not a kind experience. Check out, and...
...back on the road.
Too much of travel is traveling. This especially becomes true when I reach Sicily: I should have booked more places as two-day stays instead of trying to run around as much as I did. Today is going to be a lot of trains, quite a bit of hiking, and a taste of Germany itself.
Also, I'm about to get very wet.
Several times.
Backtracking my original ingress route brings me to Rommelshausen Station. Sadly, nothing is painted in desert peach. And when I get on the train? Turns out this is the station immediately below Waiblingen. I could have saved some time on my first day in, but... I did get it back in exploring.
It's on the cool side this morning: damp and quiet. There's a few commuters here. The ticket machines still have English options, and four Euros will get me back to Stuttgart.
I've been wondering if it's best to try for the hotel early. Check in as soon as possible, and -- leave the suitcase there. But this is where we get into that flexible geographic definition, because the hotel turns out to be well outside the main city. Closer to the airport than anything else, and that's another reason I took that room: proximity and the presence of the only shuttle service I'll see for the trip. Someone will drive me to the airport on the 19th for the Catania flight, at no additional cost. For today, though... stuck with the luggage, and I'm starting to worry about the suitcase. I picked it up from a closeout shop: the manufacturer went out of business because they decided to open a luggage company just before the pandemic broke out. It's a moderately high-end piece: I paid $70 on a original retail which had been closer to $450. But it's also small: I picked it up in the hopes of having it fit into every overhead compartment. And the wheels are tiny.
I'm going to be hauling this thing everywhere. Already have been. What if the wheels give out?
For that matter, I'm carrying Emergency Shoes Funds. The treads on the current pair are already dwindling to nothing. Hit the wrong surface...
...train's here.
I'm starting to become familiar with the trains. Where to sit, what to avoid, and the fact that entire cars are taken up by bikes. Flip up the seats, and then the bikes sit here, here, and here --
-- Stuttgart. Climb out of the train station and walk right into the light rain. I've got a long pedestrian street with high-end stores on both sides, heading up towards park and mall and library and stairs. Stuttgart has some elevation changes and the occasional delusion of being Seattle -- but when there's a really big jump? Stairs. Possibly with an elevator right next to them.
I start hunting for banks. I also get to notice that the tote bag I've been using for most of my side items is giving out. The handles are tearing away from the main body. Switch to a backup as I walk along, looking at architecture and the people out in the rain and the park. The park is a little beautiful, even in the rain. The local geese are here, and they aren't fouling the walking paths. They also move out of the way as I approach. Much more polite than my own.
The mall announces that it'll be hosting a Banksy exhibit in October. The chat server questions whether the mall will be destroyed after.
...bank. I manage to make my wishes understood. This one has no coin machine, but points me back towards the train station. I find the other facility tucked in between two shops, go inside, spot the conversion machines immediately, and then someone asks me for my account number.
...well, would you like to open an account? You can't use the machines without an account. And then they just add the coins to your balance. I patiently explain the issues in coming back to withdraw my money, then leave.
Food. Very little is open, and I need to catch a train out soon. Where can I --
-- last resort of the desperate. McDonald's.
Huh. Y'know, Germany still does fries in beef fat. The States don't. I wonder what that tastes like?
...
...hello, birds. I am leaving these fries here in the open for you. Enjoy. Somehow.
I report my problems to the server from the mall's food court, then get back into the train system. The rather liberal definition of 'Stuttgart' has me paying six more Euros to get out of town again. I'm heading for Goldberg, and the mineral bath there. (It took eight attempts before Siri would recognize 'mineral bath'.) Back on the train, and...
...well, I knew I couldn't get through Germany without seeing one swastika. It's graffiti painted on the support for a bridge overpass. This is right next to a sprayed Muslims Go Home, and I wonder about the English. Later in the day, a trolley will bring me past a political ad sign which reads Make Inflation Small Again. Also in English, and it brings up questions of who they're trying to reach...
...Goldberg. I wind up repacking a few things before leaving the station: the tote bag is dead, and I need to get the umbrella out of the suitcase. The rain is that heavy. And I'm going into this blind. I genuinely couldn't get a lot of information about this mineral bath before I left -- which very much means not knowing the prices. For all I know, it's Members Only. If you're not a member, get a trial period at a mere 200E for a day --
-- climb up to road level. It's 0.7m to the mineral bath. Siri directs me over the bridge, then sends me right onto -- a footpath? Seriously? And it's marked with signs here and there, showing where to turn. Siri is doing footpaths for walking directions. That's interesting.
(And then came Taormina...)
Off the hiking trail. Sidewalk. Pass a corporate entrance. Up and around, because the walking path to the mineral bath has to climb past the parking lots and there's more stairs to deal with. The rain keeps falling. Head inside...
Hello.
Oh, hello! Is this your first time?
Yes. How much for -- three hours?
Fifteen Euro.
...really? That's all?
Well, that's just bath access. If you go into the sauna, eat, drink -- it's extra. Also, we rent towels.
(I have a microfiber one in the suitcase, folded and ready. A gift for the trip.)
Three hours. Thank you.
Do you want to hear about our Frequent Guest program?
I... sort of came a ways to be here. I probably can't get back.
Oh? How far?
The staring went on for a while.
I wish this was my shot. I had a grey, overcast morning. But I wanted to give you a picture from the outside, because I couldn't take any while I was on the grounds. The tablet stayed in my self-assigned locker, and I didn't have a smartphone. Even that would have been a bad idea, because I was in and out of water for three hours. Dedphon. Very ded.
But I'd be remiss if I didn't give you their website. And for that matter, I owe them thanks.
I came in to experience a soak.
I left with a dream.
What's the layout? Once you clear the locker rooms, there's a central indoor pool area. I never got into that because there were exercise classes being conducted in the water. The left sees a slightly chill smaller soaking area, openly lit with lighter tiles and pool noodles available for support: it's deeper in that section. The right has dark tile and subdued lighting: everything is painted in shades of navy, and there's spotlights around the edge of the pool to create a little more illumination.
The sauna is downstairs. I went down to peek without actually using it. People lie around nude in the heated areas. Then they get up and walk to their next station. Also while nude.
There's a small eatery next to the main pool. There's also a water path. You climb down into a tiny artificial section of river, and then paddle towards the gate which leads outside. This brings you to two outdoor pools, plus a whirlpool bath -- ten-minute limit -- and a cold-water dipping tub. Temperatures for the water are posted in Celsius and with the rain starting to lighten up, people are going outside. Swimming in the open, moving next to bubble jets or under the fountain arcs.
I start with the left soaking area, because it's less populated and I haven't been in swim gear for a while. There's a few looks as I get in, most of which fall under Seen It. I'm one of the younger people here. Mostly seniors. And...
...it's just water.
Here I am, sitting in water. Yay. I crossed an ocean to sit in an indoor pool.
...so keep sitting.
...is my skin starting to tingle?
...yes, it is. That's -- odd. And I feel... a little heady. There's no fumes coming off the water and it's too cool for steam, but...
...why am I calming down? I can feel my heart rate dropping. I'm not doing anything...
I paddle a little. Sit here and there around the rim. I don't understand why this feels good. The bubbles keep catching me, because there's air jets around the rim and they go off on the regular.
What, exactly, is happening here?
I'm wearing a not-watch. This is courtesy of the mineral bath, and it's how they track your expenses. Ordering from the menu? Tap your wrist sensor. Going into the heart of the sauna section? Tap here, please. (There is no time function: plain white plastic face. I have to keep looking for clocks.) It's doing fine with the water, because it has to. I wonder if it also measures vital stats. Mine must be doing some strange things --
-- get up. Exercise is still going on in the main pool. I take the river to the gate, head outside...
...colder. I start to shiver, then stop. I'm fine as long as I stay in the water, which means I get to make myself miserable because the whirlpool's about to empty out. Scramble out of the pool, up one ladder and down another and...
...I didn't even know that foot was hurting until it stopped.
People are just -- floating. Quiet talks, here and there. A little swimming. No one goes fully under the water. It's just locals relaxing, and I don't understand why I'm starting to feel this calm.
Switch pools. This gives me a private bubble jet for several minutes. But the temperature's dropping again, so...
...back inside. I try the shadowed indoor pool on the right, with the warmest non-whirlpool water and the dark tile and the beacons shining under the water. People give me room. I find a place to sit, and the air bubbles start up. I'm not in the right place for that jet.
Flying and running and trying to make it all work. It's stressful. And it's all just -- going away...
...I get a glimpse of lights dancing just below the surface of the water --
-- what? What was --
-- gone.
I think -- was that from the air jets? What happened just then?
Okay. Shift position. Feel around the rim. The jets go off in different locations, and they aren't all active at the same time. I need to find a set which isn't working just yet, then wait for them to turn on --
-- there they go. Navy lighting, dark water, but there's spotlights underneath and when the air jets trigger, the bubbles catch the lumens. Carry them in a rising tide of white. Light foams around me, dances against swimwear and skin --
-- the jets cut out.
The last bubbles come up, each carrying light. I lower my body, get my eyes as close to the waterline as I can --
-- it's like stars...
That's where I found a story. And the hardest part is going to be transcribing what was effectively a purely sensory experience into words. It may be impossible, but -- I have to try. Figure out who I can pass this to -- sisters, it has to be the sisters...
I made sure to get out on time. I didn't eat or drink anything, got to the locker room, used my own towel. This is starting to create a problem, because now I have soaking-wet pieces in garbage bags within the suitcase. I'll have to do laundry at the hotel. Surely a four-star hotel is going to have a laundry.
I get dressed again, head out, tap my non-watch sensor against the exit gate. The front desk waves me out: no additional charges, and I leave the sensor behind after thanking them for the experience. But the whole way out, I'm making notes. Once I reach the train station again, I start to write them down on the tablet. I came here one story short for the month and now I have an Idea. That's worth fifteen Euros. That just might save my fiscal life in October. All I need is to type everything out, and I can do that in the open at the train station because the rain has stopped --
-- check the forecast, then the radar. Nothing else on the horizon. Clear day. All rain is now out of the forecast.
(Hah.)
...can I make Wilhelma?
I can @$#% well try.
More trains. (I pause to repack the suitcase, putting the umbrella away.) Then I'm back in Stuttgart, transfer again, and -- the train rises out of the underground, catches overhead wires and becomes a trolley. We move through the city streets, pass through train stations which are just elevated sidewalks between lanes. Cars are moving around them, and I quickly spot a vital lesson: in Germany, you cross on green or you die. A trolley could barrel around a corner at any minute.
This is a little more crowded to ride in. I have to keep a close eye on the tablet, because I need to know exactly where I'm getting off and there's a transfer to deal with along the way. Once I get there, I wind up walking about a half-mile because I'm delivered to the exit gate of the facility and there ain't anyone selling tickets there. Gee, hope that doesn't repeat.
(Agrigento...)
But by mid-afternoon -- about four p.m. -- I make it. I'll have to move quickly if I want to see most of the place, and certain areas will shut down as closing approaches. (For those who might follow in my footsteps, give yourself at least three hours and arrive no later than three p.m. )
Admission is fifteen Euros, and I nearly fumble at the ticket machine: the English isn't quite as clear. Getting a drink inside costs me four more, but I need it because the sun is now out and the day is starting to heat up. Plus there's a locker. Store suitcase here. One Euro? Please and thank you.
I drop everything off, step into the gardens, and the heartache hits.
My mother loved to garden.
There used to be a tiny strip of dirt on the side of my apartment building. She turned it into a herb production area. A few months after her death saw the next building over pave the whole thing, with no warning. I woke up and construction was under way. I couldn't rescue anything.
There are flowers everywhere. Plants from all over the planet. I came to Germany to see things from home, and a few other continents besides.
She would have loved this...
...she would have hated the walk. The Wilhelma property sits in the middle of the city. From the right angle, you can see life outside the walls. But it takes up a lot of room, and you have to hike through most of it. The majority of the botanical sections are indoors because they have to be: climate control. I make a wrong turn at one point and nearly step backstage: fertilizer storage, treatment of sick plants. But no matter where you go, there's always a few more steps to take.
I keep stopping. Getting pictures. Breathing in scents both strange and disorienting. My nose has no idea where I am right now.
Why a zoo and garden? Because it's supposed to be one of the best such places in the world. I might as well look around. Besides, all of the museums were closed...
...clear the gardens...
...oh, hi, Gilda.
Griffin vultures. I've never seen them before.
...hey, Blitzschritt.
(There was a joke once about the potential for a very select Ko-Fi drive. Plushie My OC. She'd have to be on the list, don't you think?)
I hate being a lousy photographer. The tablet is clumsy for such things, but -- I'm worse.
And then I get a shot so perfect that even I can't screw it up.
...this place is huge...
I find the insect area. The underwater section. Lots of birds. Eventually, yaks show up. Floral arrangements are everywhere. The outdoor avian dome closes for the day shortly before I reach it. And I just walk around, looking and breathing and trying to bring back the feel of it, because... when will I be back again? I probably won't. Take it with me, take it all...
...announcements in multiple languages. They're starting to close.
Back to where I came in. Recover the suitcase, get back to the trolley.
Cue the fiasco.
It's 7:33 p.m. The sun is just about all the way down. I'm sitting at a train station called Bad Cannstatt, looking at a ferris wheel in the distance.
I'm also trying not to cry.
I just got email from my first Catania B&B. They want to know what time to expect me tomorrow. I give them my flight time and a best guess.
I am less than twenty-four hours from breathing real air.
I haven't been this close in...
...I'm almost home. I just have to...
...not yet, not yet...
Right now, I need to catch the 7:51 train out of here. I'll be on that for about forty minutes. Then once I clear the car, I need to get to street level and catch a bus. I've got the route number on the tablet. Find bus, take ride to hotel. Simple.
Wait it out.
And here's the train. Get on board.
The train moves. Reaches a stop.
Another stop.
Another.
We pass Lienfelden. I dub this The City Of Bad Art.
I seem to be on the Extreme Local. We are stopping for everything and everyone. If there's a grain of sand on the tracks, we pause to see if anyone lives in it.
...check the tablet. Time is passing. I don't have a lot of it left if I'm going to catch the bus --
-- almost none --
-- we're here. I try to race out of the station, and I can't. We came in below street level, there's more stairs, multiple flights of the things and when I hit the sidewalk? A full row of buses. At least eight of them. Buses everywhere, I'm scrambling up and down the row looking for the right number and I'm down to seconds and there it is.
Hello. Fare? Thank you.
Whew. Barely. The SSB76 bus pulls away from the curb as I'm sitting down.
It turns.
Turns again.
It's only a mile and a half to the hotel. I should be seeing something by now. I don't.
Siri? Where am I in relation to --
-- live GPS. We're moving away --
-- it's the little things which trip you up. Failure to anticipate can be part of that. For example, I never anticipated that there would be buses on both sides of the train station. Or that there would be two SSB76s there at the same moment, departing in different directions.
So clearly this was my fault.
...crap.
Stop the bus, please.
I explain the problem to the driver. He tells me to cross the street and wait.
Disembark.
A warm, humid late summer night. Lost in Germany, waiting in the dark.
...I don't want to just stand here. The next bus might not be along for...
...Siri?
Oh, megacrap.
Well, if I just move back towards the train station, I'll be that much closer, right? In fact, if I track along the path to the hotel...
I'm at about 39% charge on the tablet. That should be enough, right?
Siri? How far out am I?
2.4 miles to the hotel. That's not even as bad as Renton! And this time, it's before midnight. Plus I already paid busfare once, so to stay on budget...
(Seriously. Is it just me, or can anyone hear my IQ dropping?)
This should be easy. Let's walk it!
(I am such a moron.)
Past a pizza place. They're closed. A pharmacy goes by: same. Siri starts to take me through housing, and I wonder where the train station is. We don't seem to be passing it on this route. I do see people on bikes and electric scooters, but not until they're nearly on top of me. It's a very dark night, heavily overcast.
Heavily...
...forecast was fine...
The route…. starts to get a little weird. When you tell Siri you want walking directions, she accounts for designated footpaths. I have to go down stairs and through a tunnel to cross a street. A turn is dealt with through diverting behind it. I find an uphill, and start to climb because of course Renton wants to haunt me --
-- three drops of rain hit me, all at once.
This is followed by three thousand.
The sky completely opens up. No thunder, no lightning: just outright downpour.
I have to scramble. There's just about no shelter in which to get the umbrella out and honestly, it's too late already. My clothing is already soaked through. I need to protect the tablet. The carrying bag is merely water-resistant, and it's a lot less so when the top zipper is open. I'll need to reseal and just check to make sure I'm on the right path when I can.
Okay. Done. Protect tablet. Water bad.
(Taormina...)
...well, I can't get much wetter. And I guess this is where I find out how good the suitcase's seal is.
I plod on. No buses pass me at any point. Very few cars. Crest the uphill, and there's large buildings off to the left. Maybe one of them is the hotel --
-- housing development. Siri sends me through it. There's another awkward passage down a walking trail to manage this, and I briefly find enough trees that I can think about trying for the umbrella in partial shelter, but -- that's just exposing the inside of the suitcase to the rain. Find a main road, and there's what looks to be closed shops off to the right. I have to turn left and because the universe has a sense of humor, that's bringing me by the piano store.
I spot the equivalent of a strip mall across the street. There's just enough overhang to give me shelter for checking directions, and a race across road and grass lets me see what the path is. Up and across and slant around this way, that has to be another footpath -- memorize this, can't check it too often in this rain, it's after 9 p.m. now and I need to move --
-- the rain is getting heavier. I can barely see.
@#$%ing forecast.
Leave the non-shelter. Up and across, slant that way, there's the footpath, back to the road, and I'm starting to see a highway off in the distance. Hear it, as cars speed by. But there's also a very large building with a high fence around the perimeter, and -- yes, I can see the logo at the top. That's my hotel. And now Siri wants me to take a left --
-- there's no left here.
I check my position. Squint at the shadows, risk a peek at the tablet's screen. Yes, this is a left. But there's no road, no path. Just -- fence. I'm a few hundred feet away from the hotel and I don't see any access.
Recalculate. Ask Siri for directions from where I am right now. Maybe things just got mixed up --
-- turn left.
...okay. Just... keep moving towards the hotel. Cars get in there, right? So there has to be a driveway somewhere. Just follow the perimeter.
I run out of sidewalk.
Then I run out of shoulder. I'm walking along the road, with about eighteen inches to move within. The suitcase overflows the strip.
The hotel is right there. I can see it. But there's no entrance. And I keep following the perimeter, and now that's taking me onto an exit ramp. I can see and hear the highway, cars are coming down the ramp towards me, the rain just keeps falling, I've barely got any room to move and I just want to know if people pull in directly from the highway because if that's the case, then I need to walk along that and I still haven't seen a bus since I got off the wrong one. Shelter is a few hundred feet to my left and the highway just keeps getting closer, another car speeds by me on the ramp --
-- wait. I just saw it. The rain's getting lighter, and I can see a little more. The hotel has other buildings nearby: possible industrial park. And where the hotel's property ends -- the fence runs out.
I get myself over the roadside railing. Haul the suitcase across, then drag it through tall wet grass and mud. I'll need to check everything for ticks. Work past rocks and trees and fallen branches --
-- parking lot for the neighbor. Now if there's just any road connection --
-- there is.
Get inside.
Hi. Pardon my dripping. I have a reservation...
(The front desk clerk is just staring at me.)
Reservation? Please?
...yes. Your name?
He starts to pull it up. I ask about dinner. The restaurant is still open, and I can have anything which can be ordered, cooked, served, and eaten in twenty minutes.
...great.
But the little store near the desk is self-serve!
...can I just -- how does the shuttle bus work tomorrow? Oh, you just need a time frame? Okay. As checkout is at noon, I'll take that shuttle. (My flight is at 4:25 p.m.) Thank you. Now, where in the hotel do I find laundry? Because as a four-star, you -- you send laundry to a place in town, and they send it back. Got it. Takes one day. Which is a day I don't have. I barely have anything left that's clean and dry. Shortly after I hit Catania, it'll be Wash or Stink.
By the way, how do you get in here? I was originally trying to take a bus --
They tell me. The bus stop is about a third of a mile away. I was going to wind up walking here no matter what I did. The soaking was guaranteed. Seattle rains finally caught me, in Germany.
Someone comes up behind me. I hear a little gasp. Turn around, and spot a balding man in his early sixties.
In English, “I saw you on the road.”
I don’t say anything.
”I thought you were going to die.”
A soda from the self-serve store. That's dinner.
I'm still waiting to find out why this is a four-star room, and I continue to wonder for several minutes after entering it because it has no electricity. I flip every switch, and nothing happens -- until the TV turns on. But nothing else will activate, and that maintains no matter what I try. Move around in the dark, finally decide to head back down and ask for something with power -- and as soon as I open the front door, I see the little electronic card holder next to the exit.
Suspicion takes over. I press my room card into the slot. All of the lights go on.
...oh, for...
Check my own electronics. No damage. Start charging. Suitcase contents are dry.
The shower is pitifully underpowered. There's half of a shower door here, and that's because there isn't enough water pressure to reach the back -- which is where the towels are hung, in perfect safety. (I hang some things up to dry. It doesn't help.) I can barely get shampoo out of my hair, and that requires being right up against the showerhead. There's plenty of freebie soaps to try, but water? Go back outside. Nude. It'll be a faster rinse, plus I can check for ticks.
The sink has more water pressure than the shower.
There's a bottle of mineral water in the mini-fridge. If I drink it? 4.50E gone.
...just -- sleep. Try to sleep...
I wake up sick.
...no, not covid. Covid's onset time isn't anywhere near that fast. It's a very light touch of Con Crud, and it pretty much goes away by late afternoon. I was just among strangers for two days while unmasked: it could have been a lot worse. But I'm treating it as a warning shot.
Explore the hotel. I can't find a single thing which gives it a four-star rating, and that very much includes breakfast because I feel like I'm eating at a budget casino buffet. Only with less options. But at least I eat, and once that's done --
-- I don't want to go exploring. Checkout is at noon, and given how hard it was to get in and out of here -- no. Not even with the sun out. So I go back to the room and with a few hours to use, write about 2800 words for what will become To Swim Among A Sea Of Stars. If I can just finish it somewhere along the way, then I'm Patreon-clear for September. I have a story I want to tell, and I'm just hoping I'm up to the challenge.
(I still don't know if I made it.)
I stop at about 11:10 a.m. Pack up, make sure I've got everything, go downstairs to check out. The desk clerk of the morning asks if I want to take the slightly earlier shuttle. I don't mind and to be fair about it, this is the one point where the ?four-star? paid for itself. There are two other people in the shuttle van with me, and we all get to watch the fiasco which is 'getting out of this place by car'. This requires many turns, a highway or two, and a giant mess which might have taken hours to navigate by mass transit. To that degree, I get away with something in stay value -- plus a suitcase which is now 85% dirty clothing.
The van pulls up at Stuttgart Airport...
I locate the lost & found office. As arranged, my passport card is waiting for me. Reclaim, offer gratitude, and leave.
It takes some time before my check-in counter opens, and it lets me explore. Most of what I see is that this part of the airport is a long straight line, with multiple security checkpoints leading to the terminals beyond. And unless they branch in a hurry, then I'm starting to wonder why they're designated as separate terminals because it is a long straight line.
There's a little aviation museum outside, on the roof. Come and see the ancient helicopters.
A handbag/backpack store is labeled as Picard. Make my non-purchases so. Travel agents are set up in the terminal for last minute sales. There's a PS5 for sale, and I can't afford it, can't use it, can't even carry it, and it would be set up for the wrong region anyway --
-- check-in is open. I have to hand over the suitcase, but that was included in the flight cost for the first and only time. Time to head for my gate --
-- the line to get through security at my terminal goes down the hallway, past several stores, beyond the entrance to the next terminal (which currently has no passage available), wraps around an obstacle or two, then stops just short of the far end. Well over a football field in total length.
...
...oh, @$% me.
And that's the next hour-plus of my life. Inching forward, listening to the grumbles of all the other people who are inching forward and then when I reach the terminal entrance, the security line doubles back on itself six times. All I can do is shuffle along, and the highlight of the process comes when I pass an ice cream vending machine with the world's worst brand motto and consider whether to destroy it.
...I should have destroyed it.
There's the security people. A flashing sign says Access To All Gates. I start to take off my shoes --
-- oh, right. That's only an American thing? Okay. Here, this is my bag of loose Euro coins. Please don't detain me. Anything else? Thank you --
-- and on the other side? It's all one terminal. They just call it several.
Vaunted. German. Efficiency.
*sigh*
Explore. I can't really do much with the eateries. A newsstand has reasonable prices, and I get chips and candy while noting open nudity on magazine covers. Sadly, no Karens combust within my hearing range. Locate my gate, which requires an elevator (or several flights of stairs) to ground level. Recharge devices where I can, and I luck out with a vending machine which does the compression trick -- for 0.05E and above. It still lets me get a few coins into a smaller form.
And the clock ticks along.
I'm an hour from boarding.
Thirty minutes.
Ten.
There's a bus pulling up to the gate. We'll ride out to the runway and board there. A little plane for a short hop.
I'm carrying one of my mother's rings in the tablet bag. I put it on.
I need to stay hydrated. There's a heat wave down there. I'm heading into 90F temperatures. I...
...I'm so close...
...the tears keep trying to well up...
...you can't go home. Ever. Only back...
The bus brings us to the Eurowings plane.
I'm going back.
And now, another destined-to-be-ignored edition of Estee's Photo Album.
Equines everywhere...
Moving around Stuttgart.
Inside the mineral bath, at the lobby. I had to put everything away beyond this point.
A little of the Wilhelma Gardens.
Hey, Yona.
I name you 'Cuddlespit'.
The long road on a Germany night.
And here begins the newest running gag: 'What's a copyright?'
Ponies in strange places...
Pictured: the global constant. (If it exists as a location, it probably has one of these 'maps'.)
Comics as they're meant to be.
Next stop...
...there's a question as to whether I can find the next stop.
From here on, things got complicated.
And a little bit joyous.
I feel Bill Waterson would be fine with the copyright infringement.
IMO, at least, you did really well translating the experience to words in To Swim Among a Sea of Stars!
I’m very glad the mineral baths was such a good experience for you. I hope your next con trip offers a similar happy memory for you.
"I thought you were going to die."
The Darwin Awards
(For killing yourself by a stupid accident.)
has VERY strict standards including independent verification.
From 1995-2014
382 were awarded
36 women
14 mixed
332 were awarded to men
This led to MIT
Male
Idiocy
Theory
Basically, it's genetic & now you have proof.
Will we be seeing Cuddlespit in a future story?
As a genuine Kansas resident, we drive everywhere. I've taken Greyhound once in my life, and I took the train from the Baltimore airport to Bronycon...once. (and survived) When I go visit my son in Germany in a year or so, I'm going to need a tag sewn into my shirt "Hello, I am an American and have no idea how busses work. Help."
Just your luck to get one of the very few franchises that still do beef fat... McD's officially phased that out in 2022 over here