I'm on a plane!

Frankfurt, good bye and good riddance! You were nothing but freezing rain to me, which is just unacceptable considering how hot Vienna, Prague, and Berlin all were!

I got to Frankfurt in the early afternoon and it was freezing! Luckily, my hostel was about a five minute walk from the station and I dodged in just when check-in time started. Hooray! I also found out that the shuttle I'd have to catch the next morning was only about 5 minutes away as well, just to the right of the station exit. And I'd have to catch it at... 3am?! Geez! Thanks, RyanAir for the way-cheap air ticket to Greece -- but did you have to fly to a "Frankfurt" airport that's actually two hours away from Frankfurt?

The rest of the afternoon, I spent just making bland conversation with the other hostelers, and then surfing the web. I'm proud to say that I've caught up on some of the Daily Show episodes I've missed, and sad to inform you that Netflix does not accept foreign IP addresses when attempting to stream movies. The hostel was hosting a Pasta Party this particular evening so I didn't even have to venture forth to get my dinner -- a very nice thing, as the rain didn't let up at all the entire day. So while I can say I've been to Frankfurt, the only things I've seen are the things in that short walk across the street from the train station. And since a sex shop is included in that list, it's not much to brag about.

My mattress at the hostel was horrific. I felt like I had been given a thin, thin tarp to stretch over the springs and it was really just a test of endurance to see if I could actually sleep. Not that it mattered much, since the building across the street had a neon sign on so large and so bright that it was like the light was on in our own room. Sleep was not forthcoming at all. Luckily I got a weak wifi signal even in my bed and amuse myself by streaming College Humor video clips until I passed out. Before I knew it, it was time to get up, check out, and head to the shuttle.

My day started getting interesting on that ride at 3am. I didn't head out until about 2:45 because I didn't want to wait in the cold and didn't know how early the bus would actually be there. I was very sir raked when I caught to the collection point to see the bus already there and almost full with a line of people waiting to get their tickets. I was one of the last people on, and I sat next to a black man who gave me a weary smile. As the bus started off for its two hour drive, he asked me where I was flying off to. His voice was very heavily accented -- he was actually from Senegal, Africa. (And I have no idea where that is.) we chatted for a few minutes before I bluntly said, "Ok, well, I'm going to sleep."

When the bus got to the airport, I made it through security and sat down in front of my future gate. I'd read my ticket information wrong, seeing the 7:05am time stated as he departure time, when really it was the gate-opening time; departure wasn't until 7:40am. It's not much of a difference, but it meant that I could have caught the 4:30 bus and slept another two hours -- maybe even breakfast! As I was mentally kicking myself in the head for overlooking that important detail, my friend from the bus appeared next to me with a large smile. he wanted t finish the short conversation we'd started on the bus.

We talked about our travel plans. He was heading to Barcelona, a city he'd lived in for many years. When he heard that I was going, he excitedly started describing all the many things I had to do. And then he started saying things like "maybe we might see each other," which changed to "maybe I will fly out there to see you," which ended with "maybe, I don't know, maybe something will happen-"

"I don't think do," I cut in, "I'm already dating someone."

I'm constantly surprised by how fast these guys are. I hope it's just a European thing. I'd like to think that if I were sitting alone in the airport in the States, men wouldn't come up to me, start a conversation, and very soon (say, five minutes) start moving into the relationship territory. I'm becoming a more and more surly person with strangers.

Our conversation changed to why I left Lucas behind, to Barrack Obama, to other places I must go -- the main one being his home country, Senegal. He was so insistent on it, he even started making these plans about how "we" could go in the winter, when it was cool, and how he'd pay for my airplane ticket and all. "Uh huh," says I, "that's a really interesting idea, but nope."

His plane departed at about 5:55am and as he walked out towards his, he turned back and fanatically waved goodbye. The whole experience was a very unreal.

I sat in my chair for about another hour before finally it was time to start lining up. RyanAir does the same things that Southwest does, a first-come, first-pick rule to getting seats. Since I definitely wanted a window seat, I got in line as soon as it started forming. When the doors opened to let us actually board the plane, I experienced again the rude shoving match that any line-up process turns into here in Europe: there was a family in front of me with two young boys and they moved, understandably, a little slower than normal, but since they were in front of me I patiently trailed behind them. Not so, all the other passengers. Mot of them almost angrily sped-walk around us -- some people even started jogging to get to the plane first. It's like this for everything: getting on a bus, getting on the metro, standing in line for e bathroom... If you're not quick, if you're not almost actively shoving people to get in front, people will have no problem in shoving past you. If you're not driving like a race car driver, everyone will honk at you, drivers will swing their fists at you as they pass by, and you'll be run off the road.

At any rate, I did get my awesome window seat regardless of the people who ran to beat me there. I'm getting a little warmed up from still-raining Frankfurt and I can only hope that Greece is warm today!

Location:Plane ride to Kos, Greece