Chicago to Frankfurt.

Ah, day 2 under a German sky, which looks disappointingly like every other sky I've ever seen. Where are the special effects? The ripple dissolve? The clouds shaped like pastry? 

What's that? They breath air here, too? And put their blue jeans on one leg at a time? So, I guess no lederhosen, then. Right. Moving on.

Where were we in the grand travel adventure? Oh yeah, O'Hare.

We had just a few minutes over an hour to make it from gate D-something to C-something when we landed in Chicago. Since we were neither delayed nor facing a huge travel crowd, we had time to suck down a snack before boarding the international flight. It was great fun to hear the announcements in both German and English. At least I think it was English; it was delivered in a thick French accent. Nobody understood why that gave me the giggles.

The flight itself was nice enough, given it's nearly eight hours in coach. I was hoping we'd get some sleep, but I found it impossible to get comfortable enough in the second half of the flight to actually snooze. Rowen caught a few z's on my shoulder in the last hour or so, but that was it. They fed us twice and we had personal screens at each seat to see a variety of movies. I'm sorry this paragraph is so boring, but that's what the flight was like.

Landing in Frankfurt at 5:40 am was a relief. It was dark and rainy, so not much to report there. The bathrooms are really clean, though, and smell like a fruit basket. That was kind of off-putting, actually.

Our first liaison met us at baggage claim and took us to a staging area where we were one of the first soldiers/families to arrive. We stowed our luggage in their secure room and wandered off for coffee since in-processing wouldn't commence for at least two hours. 

Returning to the staging area (also a walk-thru area from the Sheraton to the terminal) at the appointed time, we watched several soldiers and military families stream in and harry the poor specialist behind the counter. He was really on the ball, though, and I watched him field questions, give instructions and answer two phones at a time with no small amount of impressed awe.

Finally, Randy was included in the group to go "upstairs" and in-process. Most families went with their soldier, but since it wasn't required that I go and Rowen was already drooling on my leg where she fell asleep, I opted to stay put in the staging area. I had a comfortable seat and a book; it seemed like the thing to do. 

It seemed less like the thing to do as the minutes turned into hours and every German who walked by stared at my kid like she'd disembarked an alien spacecraft. Families who arrived well after us left with their sponsors or for their buses, their children and pets making a merry parade before me while sheer exhaustion was making me imagine that they'd told Randy his orders were a mistake and sent him back to the States. Immediately. Without us. Did I mention I was really tired?

As it turns out, they were not telling Randy his orders were a mistake. I hope he blogs about his experiences in that little room, though, because what ELSE they weren't doing made for an interesting rant. Suffice it to say here, though, that it was a "process" for sure.

Finally, we loaded our luggage on the bus and climbed to the top level of the double-decker style vehicle to escape the family with 2 small boys, a baby, a golden retriever and a wife who'd had enough. The bus seats reclined way farther than the plane seats and I slept in two, 45-minute intervals, nearly the entire ride. I did catch a glimpse of rolling hills dusted with powdery snow, but the light was too hazy to get a clear picture. Also, the widows of the bus hadn't been cleaned since it rolled off the assembly line, approximately twenty years ago. We passed through one small village where I noticed every kitchen window had a potted orchid on the sill. Not sure what that's about, but will report as soon as I find out. 

Our arrival on post went so smoothly as to be unworthy of writing about. Besides which, I was so burnt out and spacey I really don't remember much about what happened. Reservations at the post hotel (henceforth to be referred to as "guest housing") had been made for us in advance, and we unpacked enough of our luggage to take showers, put on clean clothes, and then stare blankly at the wall while we tried not to blubber. Or perhaps that was just me. In any case, we forced ourselves to stay up a few more hours so we could go to bed "on time" and hopefully get rid of the jet lag. I made it to 8:15 pm. 

No family in-processing is done on the weekend, so we have a couple of days to recover before the go-here and sign-that and hurry-up-and-wait stuff begins. Fun!