I’m usually lucky, even in the most seemingly impossible and hopeless situations. I’m not bragging—one can’t brag about luck, health, or money—I’m simply stating the fact. However, I can’t figure out what to think about how I got from Bulgaria to Togo. Was it a warning not to push my luck? Here is what happened.
I was in Bulgaria, staying in the small town of Byala. The nearest airport is in Varna. I needed to fly to Togo. Buying a flight directly from Varna is significantly more expensive than taking the bus to Istanbul and flying from there instead. I go to Byala every year and had pulled this trick off before more than once. I bought a ticket for the overnight bus. It doesn’t stop in Byala, which meant that I had to travel ten minutes to the town of Obzor, where there is a stop. According to the schedule, the bus arrived in Obzor at 9:30 p.m. and would reach Istanbul at 4:00 a.m. My flight was scheduled to depart at 7:00 a.m., everything looked planned perfectly.
My neighbor gave me a lift in her car to Obzor. We were there ten minutes before the scheduled time. The bus usually runs late and I was not worried. We stood there waiting, stamping our feet against the slight chill, and there was no bus. Half an hour passed, forty minutes, then fifty. I realized that something was wrong and that it was time to find an alternative means of transport. I asked my neighbor if I could drive her car to the border. She hesitated for a bit but agreed. This meant she would have to drive the car all the way back home by herself at night, but there was simply no other choice.
I reached the border in three hours driving like crazy along an unlit, steep road, snowy in places. It was clear that the bus had arrived in Obzor ahead of schedule. I figured I could catch up with it. The bus makes two stops along the way, then waits for a long time at the border while all passengers clear passport control. If I missed my bus at the border, I was counting on finding private cars heading in the same direction.
The border at half past one in the morning was completely deserted. I said goodbye to my neighbor — she drove off — and I proceeded on foot. The surprised border guard on the Bulgarian side asked, how I got there. He said that the ArdaTur bus had passed ten minutes earlier. So, I missed it. My passport was stamped, and I exited Bulgaria. Just then, a bus belonging to a different company, Metro, pulled up to the border. It was a stroke of luck and my only chance of making it to the airport on time. There were absolutely no private cars around in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t count on another scheduled bus to come along.
I quickly cleared the formalities on the Turkish side and waited for the Metro bus, hoping to catch a ride. While waiting, I thought I might as well use the restroom. It was empty inside; the only person around was a man standing by the entrance, smoking. I locked myself in a stall, as one does. Then I tried to open the door and couldn’t do it. The lock turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. I yanked at the jammed door for a while, then realized I was wasting my time and started screaming at the top of my lungs: “Help! Help!”
The man who was outside rushed over and began tugging at the door from his side. It wouldn’t budge. The man ran off and returned with tools. He knocked out the lock leaving a gaping hole in the door where it had been but this changed nothing. Swollen from the damp, the door remained wedged tightly in its frame. It was hard to imagine a more absurd situation. Fate had sent me the bus and locked me in a toilet stall so that I couldn’t catch it. Why? Just to have a laugh at my expense? After several nerve-wracking minutes, the man forced the door open using sheer physical strength and set me free. I could not thank him enough. Had he not been standing outside, it would have been a long time before anyone else came to answer my cries. I broke into a run toward the bus. It was already on the Turkish side. I quickly bought a ticket, loaded my belongings onto the bus, and breathed a sigh of relief. The transportation issue was resolved.
After crossing the border, the Metro bus took a rather circuitous route to the airport. It stopped at bus stations in various small towns along the way. I watched the clock with mounting anxiety. The time remaining until my flight was dwindling fast, yet I continued to hope. I was already checked in, I had carry-on luggage only, and there was still a chance I could make it. Finally, we arrived at the airport. I cut through all the lines and sprinted to the boarding gate.
The plane was still on the ground, but the gate was already closed, and I was denied boarding. My efforts throughout the night were in vain. For the first time in my life, I missed a flight. It happened to me in the past more than once when I made it by some miracle. This time, however, no miracle occurred.
I started thinking that there was a reason why I shouldn’t be flying to Togo. Perhaps, I simply didn’t know the reason for it. I believe that nothing in our lives happens by chance. Nevertheless, I had to do something. Getting any assistance from the airport staff proved hopeless. Everyone kept sending me in different directions, and no one seemed to know anything concrete. In the end, they advised me to go to the Ethiopian Airlines office. After wandering in circles around the airport for quite some time, I finally discovered that the office was located in the check-in area.
Typically, to return to the check-in area, you simply go through passport control again but not at Istanbul’s new airport. I wrote more than once what I think about the place. It is the only airport in the world I know of where free Wi-Fi is limited to one hour if you are not flying Turkish Airlines, where there are no decent rest areas for passengers, and no even basic chairs. What it does have, however, is an abundance of expensive shops making the airport look like a giant shopping mall.
Getting back out required a great deal of paperwork and time. An airport employee escorted me back to where I had come from. I found the office I needed, and it was closed. The neighboring offices were open, no one in them knew when the Ethiopian Airlines office was supposed to open. I went to get some breakfast and rethink the situation. I began looking for other flights to Addis Ababa departing that same day. A helpful airport employee connected me to the staff internal Wi-Fi; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything at all.
I found another cheap ticket on the Ethiopian Airlines website and reserved it. To pay for the ticket, the site required me to install their mobile app. Okay, I installed it. When I tried to make the payment, however, the app informed me that this could only be done in person at their office which remained closed. Once again, I found myself rushing frantically around the airport, asking everyone for information. It turned out that the Turkish Airlines office also accepted payments. I located their office, where a lovely woman found my reservation but regretfully told me that it was already too late to pay, as there was only one hour left until the flight.
After the sleepless night behind the wheel and on the bus, then sitting locked inside the restroom at the border, missing my flight, and the mishaps involved in buying a new ticket, my head was spinning. What else could fate possibly throw at me? What sins was I being punished for? And, for that matter, what the hell did all of this mean?!
Initially, everything was planned out very well. Ethiopian Airlines has a program under which, for layovers in Addis Ababa lasting between 7 and 23 hours, they provide a hotel, meals, and a transit visa free of charge. My ticket met the program’s requirements. After checking in for my flight, I received an email with the voucher. The plan was for me to arrive in Addis Ababa at noon, head to the hotel, have a meal, spend the night sleeping in a proper bed, and only after that having been well-rested, fly on to Lomé at 9:00 the following morning.
After everything I had been through, I felt like I could not care about taking the trip anymore. I had no desire to eat, or to sleep, or to go anywhere at all. The tiredness led to total indifference. However, I couldn’t just stay in Istanbul. I pulled myself together and found a ticket, albeit a far more expensive one, for that very evening. There was no other choice, so I bought it. As it turned out, I would even have enough time to make use of my hotel voucher. A glimmer of hope arose within me once again: perhaps things weren’t so bad after all.
My new flight was delayed. It was the only delayed flight on the entire departure board! I landed in Addis Ababa at 1:30 a.m. There was no point in going to a hotel, so I settled onto a small sofa until morning and dozed off. Addis Ababa has an excellent, functional airport unlike Istanbul. We departed for Lomé right on schedule, and I arrived at my destination safe and sound.
What a hassle!!!!!!!!
But all’s well that ends well.
Enjoy your trip!