My Departure.

After arriving home from my last dinner, I finished packing the last few items I could until I had actually showered and dressed the next morning. I checked e-mail, generally fidgeted with certain items and basically expended whatever nervous energy I had. Around 1 AM or so, I finally fell into a deep sleep and was actually rather rudely awakened by my alarm clock at 5:30 AM. After eating the last two granola bars I had in my apartment for breakfast, I showered, dressed, packed my toothbrush and checked my itinerary one last time. As the pre-arranged time I had agreed to meet my friend generous enough to take me to the airport approached, I carried my largest bag downstairs with the last bag of trash. When I came in I pulled the rest of my things out in the hall and dropped my keys for the last time in the wicker bowl on top of the microwave I have dropped them in all year. After one last glance to make sure I had everything important, I cracked the window to let out the moisture from my shower knowing the cleaning woman arriving at noon would also appreciate the room being slightly cool. Convinced I had everything I could take with me, I shut the door knowing I had no chance to open it again.

After carrying all my bags downstairs to the curb, I waited a few minutes for my friend to arrive then helped him cram my three bags into his rather tiny Volkswagen. Still, miraculously it all fit and we were off to the airport. We chatted as we had every Friday or Saturday night since I came to Germany, neither of us really acknowledging how different our lives will be in just a few weeks. Me of course in New York, him taking a new position as well. We departed with a casual goodbye, though I think we both understood the year behind us had been too full for our friendship to be considered casual.

After dragging my bags up to the Lufthansa counter, there was a problem. My flight from Philadelphia to New York had changed times and numbers, so they had to verify that I was still booked all the way home before they could check my baggage. In their rather efficient, German way, they were very polite and helpful, informing me we would have to wait until the US Airways office opened to settle the issue. Well, twenty minutes later, I had been booked, paid the extraordinary fee for my third bag and was walking towards my gate. Out of habit, I walked towards the gate I always leave from at Cologne-Bonn Flughafen, only to realize I had gone into the wrong terminal. So, after a much needed stop at my usual coffee place and my last full interaction in German, I went towards passport control.

There, they told me it was in the system that my wallet had been stolen. Yes, I said, many months before but it was returned to me by the city of Nantes. Well, in that case, she wanted to photocopy my license, my passport and file a report so it could be removed from the computer. As my flight left in ten minutes, I was a bit apprehensive, but I acquiesced, as after all after the year I had enjoyed here, what right did I have to refuse a German bureaucrat some paperwork to do??

After finally resolving the wallet problem, I was allowed to continue to my gate where I rode the bus to the plane with three British women who were returning from some sort of ladies weekend and giving each other a hard time about how much money the spent. It was nice to simply hear English spoken around me and to finally be on my way. The flight from Cologne to London was easy and featured an impressively smooth landing, my last Apfelschorle, an easy Monday crossword and a short nap just to name a few highlights. Deplaning I was struck by the strange feeling of having all the signs around me written in English. Though the voices had been somewhat comforting and pleasant, the paradigm shift made me rather aware I was really leaving Germany. A wave of regret for the lack of German I had learned in my time there rolled over me, knowing I had squandered an excellent opportunity to actually become bilingual.

Then, tragedy struck. The last year has stripped me of and given me many things, and through all those times I had a sturdy umbrella by my side. It was my trademark, a companion of sorts, and really the one thing I wanted to take with me from Europe to New York. Last time I came through Heathrow, they had hassled me about it, but it would not fit in my luggage so I figured I had to try to carry it with me. This time I made almost all the way through the flight transfer stations before at security the last woman refused me. The first woman had been kind enough to see the sadness in my eyes at having it confiscated, so she put it through to see if the woman at the end of the line would accept it. Of course, that woman saw it, immediately pulled it off the belt and told me a smaller umbrella would be allowed but that she was keeping this one. Well, what could I say to her? She looked at me cold and unfeeling. I acknowledged to myself that part of me knew this would happen, but I had come so far and hated to leave it behind. However, I shrugged my shoulders, nodded and moved down the line. It seems I will be leaving Europe exactly as I came. One last act reminding me that my life here as I know it was coming to an end.

After yet one further delay requiring another call to US Airways because the woman handling my transfer was not happy that one of my boarding passes said E-ticket and one said flight coupon required and unwilling to accept the Lufthansa issued boarding card for the flight as said coupon, and I was back in the Heathrow Terminal I last saw 9 months ago. Without thinking, I realized I had sat down on the very bench I had slept on during that long night on my way to my cousin's wedding. And here I sit at a free internet terminal, collecting my thoughts and the remaining items I need to write about the last few days. Though there are surly US customs agents, much heavy lifting, long flights, a long layover and a somewhat emotional reunion ahead of me, it feels like I am almost there. My flight will board in an hour and somehow, after all of this, I will be headed home.