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February 22, 2005
Arrival in Geneva
Here's something I wrote while waiting to register for the Prepcom yesterday afternoon.... -andy
My flight to Paris was one of the easiest overnight flights I've experienced, no doubt because I was upgraded by Air France to business class. After countless transatlantic flights in coach class, I marveled at the luxury of personal space. I stretched out in my comfortable seat and listened to Air France radio. The first song I heard was by Edith Piaf -- or so I thought. Listening to the song for a few minutes, it took me a while to realize that the chanteuse in question was singing in Portuguese -- a dead giveaway of it not being the urchin sparrow herself.
Not long after dinner, I leaned back my seat as far as it would go, raised the foot rest, and did my best to sleep. At first I twisted and turned like I usually do on overnight flights, but at some point I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I was woken by a flight attendant trying to serve me breakfast before the plane exited Irish air space. Watching the in-flight navigation system, it seemed we were going to arrive on schedule. But for some reason we circled the airport, round and round, eating up the precious minutes I had between flights. If the flight had arrived on time, I would have had 55 minutes to catch my next fight; by the time I stepped off the plane, I had 25 minutes -- and somehow I had to get to the right terminal.
Usually, navigating Paris CDG airport is easy, but that's because most of my connecting flights have always been in the same terminal. This time, in my rush to get to the right place, I found myself in the wrong place, exiting the terminal at the taxi stand rather than the shuttle connection that goes directly to the other terminal. I frantically asked a policeman how to get to the terminal; he said I would have my best chance of making it if I went on foot. I charged through the concourse and along the moving walkways to terminal 2F. Within 10 minutes, I was at the terminal's security entrance. The queue was short, but it was my luck that I got to be the one subjected to a random search. A policeman went through my computer bag, and all the little bags contained within it: the outlet adapter bag, computer cords bag, allergy medicine bag, you name it. Fortunately the policeman's fingers were nimble and swift, and he completed his task in a couple of minutes. I darted through the terminal, arriving at the appropriate gate with 10 minutes to spare.
I collapsed in my seat, exhausted and cramped -- particularly after being spoiled by the plush surroundings of business class on my previous flight. I didn't have to wait too long, though, as the flight from Paris to Geneva was only 50 minutes. It gave me just enough time to ponder whether my luggage had made the flight as well.
On the ground in Geneva, I soon discovered my concerns were justified -- my green Samsonite suit bag was not waiting for me on the carousel. I went to the Air France lost luggage desk, where they confirmed my bag was still sitting in Paris. "It should be on the 2 o'clock flight," the agent told me. "You should have it by late afternoon."
Unencumbered by most of my belongings, I exited the arrivals area and caught the next train to downtown Geneva, 15 minutes away. I remembered the train station as soon as I arrived, having spent a week here 14 months ago. Outside the station, I could see my hotel directly across the street: Hotel Bernina. Given that it was 12:15pm, I didn't expect them to let me check in so early, but the man at the front desk took mercy on me and gave me my room key, allowing me to kick off my shoes, shower, and wonder when my luggage would actually arrive. At best, my bag would show up in at least three or four hours. This meant I'd have to head over to the UN in the clothes I wore on my flight -- not exactly my idea of a stellar first impression.
Outside the hotel I caught a tram towards Palais des Nations, the UN's home in Geneva. As was the case the last time I was here, I was totally baffled by the tram's ticketing system. There didn't seem to be a simple, one-way ticket option, and the machine kept vomiting my Swiss francs back at me. Fortunately, a good Samaritan offered to use his smartcard to buy me a ticket, keeping my small change in exchange.
I arrived at the Palais des Nations 10 minutes later, standing at the tram terminus, trying to figure out where to go next. The palais itself was just to my right, but my registration information said I needed to go to the Montbrillant building first to pick up my badge. A guard at the entrance of the palais sent me in the right direction, cutting back through the tram stop towards a nondescript office building with the letters ITU / UIT emblazoned across the top.
Inside the building, a sign with the words "Prepcom badges" pointed towards an empty desk. I asked a man working at the information kiosk if I was in the right place.
"Yes, it is over there, at 2o'clock," he said, pointing behind me. I turned and looked in the direction of 2 o'clock -- ahead and to the right.
"But there's nothing there," I replied.
"The desk is there," he said. "There are no people because they are at lunch. You must wait until 2 o'clock."
So now I've had the last 55 minutes to write this. Better go register now... -ac
Posted by acarvin at February 22, 2005 3:30 AM
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