On Homeward Journeys, Snow Storms and John Oliver
I might be obsessed with the idea of identity. Having written two previous articles on this topic (here and here), I was about to return to it yet again, but then I thought it would be more fun to talk about how I met John Cornelius Oliver (crazy English dude on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart) when I got stranded in a couple of countries on my way to a wedding in Africa because London shuts down every time a sprinkling of snow occurs. I know famous people! Anyway, come with me as I reveal the details of my epic journey to the ends of the earth. It’s one for the grand kids.
I alluded to a possible obsession above. Obviously this is an exaggeration (you knew that, right?). However, for someone who has been in “exile” for long time (i.e. me), there’s a tendency to lose sight of where one has come from as one integrates all this stuff from the places one now spends one’s time. So, a good way to address this is to take a trip back to home; to confront one’s demons, as it were. For me, that means going to Nigeria.
Ok, so I didn’t make the trip to Nigeria simply because I wanted to tackle questions about my identity. That was more of a side effect. My real reason for going was to attend a couple of Marriage Ceremonies. One was Traditional, and had been systematically avoided by the groom for years by way of his simple refusal to return home from the U.S. (brilliant strategy, if you ask me). The other was a Church wedding for a good friend…I was expected to be one of the groomsmen. Even though I hadn’t been for over 7 years, not making the trip wasn’t really an option.
So, it was with some perturbation (ok, fear…maybe even dread) that I boarded the plane at Newark Airport. I was finally returning the the land of my birth and upbringing. My mind was all over the place. I tried to think back to the last time I was there. I was a struggling student at University in England, and my trip home was to provide some much needed rest and relaxation, as well as to harrass my parents into giving me more money for my international adventure. The trip before that, barely six months before, was for a similar purpose.
On both occasions, I didn’t have time to truly examine my feelings towards my “home”. I wasn’t really interested in what was going on there at the time. Identity was not an issue. I had other things to worry about. So, it became apparent to me that this was the first time I was returning with no agenda (weddings aside), free of an all-round non-positive outlook, ready to “just see” what was in store for me. The further away from New Jersey I got, the stronger my unquiet got. I was glad I was going to stop over in England briefly, where my brother would join me for the final leg of the journey to Lagos. At least, I wouldn’t be arriving on my own.
That was the plan anyway. But we all know that life has a way of providing excitement (or shafting you, if you prefer) when such is least expected, or needed. About an hour before we were scheduled to land in London, the captain announced that all airports in England were closed because of snowfall. I was surprised. I had barely gotten away from an expected storm in the North East USA only to fly straight into another one in Europe. Us passengers were told that the plane would have to land at an airport in another European City. Brussels was full. Paris was full. Zurich…no go. We were told that we would be landing the party city that is Hannover, Germany. Yay!
If I had internet access onboard, I would have been able to find out from Wikipedia that Hannover is the capital of the federal state of Lower Saxony, and was once the family seat of a group of Kings of Great Britain. Today, it hosts commercial shows like the biggest Marksmen’s funfair (guns!) and the second largest Oktoberfest in the world (beer!). Plus, there is a massive zoo there. All of this means that the place is fairly dead for most of the year.
I took it rather well. I had never been to Germany, even though I lived in England for about 6 years. Maybe this was the universe giving me the chance to experience something new. The thought of missing the wedding because of delays entered my mind, but that seemed highly improbable. I had 4 days left. There was no way in the world I wouldn’t get there in 4 days. There was no point bitching about anything till then.
So it was that over 200 passengers finally made it to a hotel about half an hour from Hannover Airport at about 1 AM local time, courtesy of Virgin Atlantic, after hours spent waiting in various queues. All closer (and fancier) hotels were fully occupied by other stranded people. I won’t talk about how I almost froze to death because I wasn’t dressed for “it’s effing freezing!” temperatures, or the unpleasant jetlag that accompanied me for the 2 days we were there. That would be nitpicking. I mean, things could have been a lot worse. We could have been sleeping on the floor of Heathrow airport like those poor sods we could see on TV.
To be honest, I didn’t completely mind being there. It wasn’t cool being in limbo though. Virgin had nobody on the ground (the flight crew had been put in another hotel, where they could be safe from us), so we had to get our updates from the hotel staff (who managed to stay polite even though they had to handle enquiries from loads of angry americans). There was a board in the lobby that also got updated at various points during the day with information on meals, possible departure times, etc. We never actually saw the so-called Virgin rep who allegedly put the information up. I was sure it was really done by mysterious elves, but then again I was suffering from extreme jetlag and might have been delusional.
In any case, we passengers became like a big family. We were all in the same boat, all of us potentially missing out on important events at our destinations. Reunions, weddings, Christmas dinner, hotel reservations. People start to identify with each other in circumstances like that. We talked about our options, alternative routes, ways to mobilize and get the airline to take us seriously and get us where we needed to go. We gathered for meals at the appointed times, getting to know each other and trying to make the best of a bad situation. The planning of the operation was…almost non-existent. There was no real co-ordination. No one knew how many passengers there were. They didn’t even take our names when we checked in. Anyone could have stepped up to the reception that night and gotten a free room and free meals, all paid for by Virgin. It was really strange.
One afternoon we all had to pile into buses and get taken to eat elsewhere because the hotel restaurant had been booked for some prior event. So, anyone who wasn’t in the lobby at the right time basically missed lunch. What was even scarier was the fact that when it was time to go back, no one bothered to tell us. After the meal, I was lost in conversation with an American Indian – I mean an Indian who I thought was American-raised, but who turned out to have picked up his “extreme” American accent while growing up in India. It was weird; he had only been in the US for about a year or something. I accused him of being a sellout – and an English dude. After a while we realized that the other passengers had disappeared. We ran for the entrance of the building to find that there was one bus there. We got in, and the driver left shortly afterwards. No one ever counted or checked anything. I am convinced there are still a few stranded people in Hannover right now, walking the streets, lost forever because they missed the bus. Ahem.
Oh yeah, as I mentioned at the start, John Oliver was there! I first noticed him at Hannover Airport. He looked regular. In fact, I was starting to think I might be mistaken until I noticed a few people go up to him to shake his hand. Even then, he was really gracious. I expected endless jokes and maniacal laughter. Instead, he was just…regular. I was a little disappointed. And I felt foolish. The fact that I didn’t say hello when I first saw him now meant I could no longer do it.
At lunch, myself and my Indian companion noticed him at a table (with his missus). The lunch tables had enough space for 6 – 8 people, but none of the other spaces were taken. I guess people wanted to give them space or something. We spent a substantial amount of time debating whether or not to sit next to him after we had gotten food. Eventually we made the move, said hello and sat down. Before I had time to engage him, some posh people came and took him away to have lunch at some posh restaurant…away from us mere mortals. Opportunity lost. Sigh.
Later on that day, I was walking past the lobby of the hotel when he called out to me. He asked me if I was on the Jets Football team. I was shocked. Then I realized that I was wearing a Jets hoodie; plus the Jets were actually playing that day (I also like to think there’s a chance I have the build of a football Wide Receiver…at least a kicker…but maybe I’m delusional). I laughed. He laughed. All was well. I didn’t have to go to him and say hello; he came to me! Because I’m cool like that. I might have blushed a little, but don’t tell anyone.
Hannover was turning out to be alright. I figured I would be outta there first thing the next day. Then I checked and saw that it had been snowing again in London. At that point it became apparent that I might actually not make it on time.
You’ll have to come back in a few weeks to read the conclusion of this amazing tale.
