Brunansky's Blog

The last night in Warsaw was filled with good food, drinks and the company of a lovely young Ukranian woman. She had an innocent charm about her that was contrasted with passion and desire. A delightful young woman that had patience enough to communicate through looks, gestures, some Polish and, of course, Google Translate.

Once the evening came to an enjoyable conclusion, it didn’t take long to fall asleep. A film from Disney+ played in the background as the final night in Europe came to a close.

The following morning began with the ringing of bells from the alarm. The flight back to the United States would soon be departing. I cleaned myself up, collected my things, and packed everything into my travel backpack. I took one last look around the room. Then, once confident I was all set to depart, I made my way down to the lobby.

The front desk receptionist greeted me in Polish. I returned morning greetings. Then, I asked what time the shuttle to the airport would be ready to leave. Instructions were given, and I walked out to the front patio to wait.

Moments later, the shuttle pulled up. I stepped into the shuttle. My backpack, small enough for carry on luggage, sat on my lap. The driver stowed away the luggage from one other travel. Then, off we went from the hotel to airport.

The shuttle service was actually my first car ride in Europe. In Amsterdam, I took a large, double decker, tour bus from Centraal to the Keukenhof. That bus was so large I don’t really count it as a car ride. This shuttle was a fifteen passenger van. This is a car, not a double decker bus. The last day in Europe was my first car ride in Europe.

We arrived at Chopin International Airport in very little time. The driver knew exactly which roads to take to ensure a speedy arrival. Once at the front entrance, I stepped out of the van and walked into the airport.

The airport had a spacious entrance. The security lines were neatly organized and easy to follow. Once through security, I made my way through the airport to the departing gate. I had plenty of time to relax. This allowed for a coffee break. The coffee cart was immediately adjacent to the gate. Once I had the mornings caffeine, I made my way to the gate and waited for the boarding call.

The airline was efficient and comfortable. The staff friendly and helpful. The flight went from Warsaw to Frankfurt, Germany. It wasn’t a long flight. Similar to the Phoenix to Hollywood flight, once in the air, we were coming back down from the air. We landed in Frankfurt without delay. Then, we all deboarded the plane and headed to customs.

The customs officer greeted me and stamped my passport. I was officially back in Germany. I made my way to the departure gate with one quick stop. There was a booth for currency exchange right before my departing gate. I attempted to exchange my złotych for American dollars. However, since I had less than one hundred złoty,  this was not possible. The exchange rate to American dollars was 4 to 1, approximately. I had about eighty złotych at the time. At that ratio of 4 to 1, it was confusing why I couldn’t get my twenty dollars, give or take, in American currency. I didn’t press the issue. I collected my monies and was off to the gates.

The departing gates had one circular cafe’ of sorts. You could order sandwiches, breakfasts, coffee, beer (of course), and more. Next to it, you could buy bottles of water, beer and other beverages, along with cold foods. I ordered a few beers, and then sat down at one of the counters and waited patiently for the boarding call.

The airport had excellent WiFi which helped pass the time while I drank my beers. Then, once the boarding call occured, I collected my things and was off to the gate. This flight would take considerable more time. The next stop wasn’t until JFK International in New York. I walked onto the plane and found my seat. Once the time arrived, I purchased some headphones to watch TV shows and movies. I couldn’t get the Bluetooth to sync with my headphones for some reason. It didn’t matter. I now had airline earbuds.

The flight from Germany back to America took several hours. I enjoyed several beers on the flight. The German airline stewardess and I flirted casually back and forth. Then, after several German beers, some food, a few movies, and flirtatious fun, we landed in New York City.

The first of many issues began once we were back in the United States. An absolutely perfect trip brought to a screaching halt once in New York City. It was almost humorous how poorly everything went from this point forward. Humorous only because the layover between flights was about six hours. It would not have been humorous if the layover was an hour or so. That would have been frustrating and problematic.

The plane touched down at JFK International on time. Then, due to heavy construction at the airport, and rerouted airline traffic, we sat on the tarmac for about thirty or so minutes. This is literal. The plane actually just sat on the tarmac without movement for about thirty or so minutes. Then, the Captain eventually got the call our arrival gate was open. We pulled into the gate, and everyone rapidly deboarded.

There was a French family standing next to me on the plane. A husband, his wife, and two teenage daughters. We talked briefly about sightseeing in New York. Then, I stayed in my seat so that everyone in a hurry could deboard first. They thanked me in English, I said you’re welcome in French. Everyone smiled and people rushed off the plane.

My walk took me to the US Customs and Border Patrol check-in. This is where everyone coming into the United States must go when they arrive via International. I found the queue line designated for US citizens. I walked through the line until it stopped. Then, I saw it. Twenty something Officer booths to check people into the country. Maybe four of them being utilized to check citizens, foreign nationals, and tourists into America. I was in awe. The thought crossed my mind, as it did many others who were more verbal, that perhaps there was a shift change. We were simply waiting on the new staff to arrive. Nope. That was incorrect. We waited a considerable amount of time before we ever got to the booth to check in with the Federal agents.

After considerable time, I was at the front of the line and waiting at a booth to speak with a Federal agent. From here, I would show my passport, answer some questions, and then walk to my departing gate… or so I thought. Little did I know that much had transpired back home in Arizona while I was away.

I walked to the agent in his booth. I handed him my passport. He accepted my passport and began typing on his computer. I told him I was only in New York to catch a flight to Phoenix. He asked me what my name was. A curious question, I thought. I answered him. He asked me where my flight just arrived from. A standard question, I thought. I told him. He then turned and faced me. He adjusted in his chair and leaned forward. He then asked if I was alright.

“Alright?” I replied with strong confusion in my voice.

“Yes… are you alright? Is everything ok?” he replied just as concerned, still leaning towards me.

“I’m a grown man in his forties who just got back from the best holiday in Europe of his life. I’m great. Why?” I replied. The sound of my voice curious, sarcastic and frustrated all at once.

“Come with me, sir.” he said. He turned in his chair and opened the door to his tiny cube. He then proceeded to walk towards a waiting area filled with people. My passport was given to some more Federal Agents behind a counter. He told me to have a seat and wait to be called. He then left back to his cubicle to continue checking people into the country.

By now, I was very confused. What the hell reason would I have to be anything but great? If the Fed’s were that concerned about me being back from Eastern Europe, why ask if I’m ok and not other questions regarding my time there? What on earth did he see on his computer screen that prompted such a bizzarre moment? I had many questions. I also still had about two or so hours to go until my departure. I wasn’t sweating anything yet.

After some time, an Agent called me up to the counter. There was the general, state your name, where did you come from, blah, blah, blah. Then, I was hit with the question once more. “Are you ok?” Exhausted from this stupidity, I replied.

“I’m fine. I just got back from the best vacation of my life. What the hell is going on?”

The agent proceeded to tell me that my passport was flagged. He clarified that it was flagged for belonging to someone who was labeled by law enforcement agencies as a “Missing Person.” Frustrated by this revelation, I asked how does one get labeled a missing person while on holiday overseas? He informed me that my mother, who has been married to my father, a government man his whole adult life, for fifty’ish years, called it in.

“My mother did this? She, without ever reaching out to me, had me classified as a missing person?” I asked with incredible frustration in my voice and on my face. “I’m a grown man in his forties. I don’t have problems like this anymore. Let’s get this taken care. I have a flight to catch.”

He then proceeded to ask me a few more questions, presummably to verify I was who I said I was. He then told me he was going to call my parents to let them know I was not in fact missing. Something that could have been easily deduced by checking my Instagram, e-mailing me, or using Threema to call or videochat me.

He walked back to me, passport in one hand, his phone in the other. He asked, “Do you want to speak with your parents?”

“Not in the slightest,” I replied. “I’m flying back to Phoenix tonight. I’ll speak with them later about this mess.”

He handed me my passport and hung up his phone. I apologized to him for this unnecessary delay. As a Federal Agent charged with ensuring the safety of our borders at the airport, he has real problems to attend to. This was a complete waste of his time, and everyones time. I then walked to the skytrains.

The skytrains took me to the terminal that my flight to Phoenix would depart from. The train didn’t take long. The ride was short. I deboarded the skytrain and walked towards the gates. Here, in the appropriate terminal, with about an hour or so to go until departure, I saw the security line. My heart dropped into my shoes. The line was forever long. Frustrated, I walked into the queue and waited for my turn to pass through the check point.

Eventually, I was through security. I walked briskly to the departure gates when my next flight would be boarding. I grabbed a sandwich from a deli, and beer from a counter top bar. Then, I waited just a short while before boarding the flight back home to Phoenix, Arizona.

The flight from JFK to Sky Harbor went smoothly. The airbuds I purchased on the previous flight worked on this plane. I watched some comedies. I slept on and off. And, eventually, I arrived back in the desert.

I made my way down to the cabbies. I grabbed a cab home, and was beyond ready for sleep. Once back, it didn’t take long to fall asleep. A full day of air travel, plus several beers, all worked well to put me to sleep once my head hit the pillow. Tomorrow, I thought, I deal with my parents and this stupidity.

The next day, I did in fact talk with my parents. They didn’t really have an explanation. Nor could they have a valid one. My father, nearing eighty years old, has worked for the Goverment since he was eighteen. He still works with the government on contracts, as he owns his own consulting business. He is well aware of the procedural steps before labeling someone a “missing person.” None of the protocals were followed. A Federal agents time was wasted. A delay in hundreds of people trying to enter the country occured. It was by far a giant clusterfuck of stupidity. Little did I know this wasn’t the end of things.

Shortly after I was back in the US and home in the desert city of Phoenix, Arizona, I made my way to the restaurant to talk with the girls and see how they’re doing. The girls were all excited to see me. They poured me a Guinness and then one of the girls came rushing over to me. She had a look on her face that was happy, shocked, stressed and urgent. She told me that a private investigator came to the restuarant while I was gone to see if any of the girls had heard from me.

Apparently, I discovered, someone hired my father to track me down. He went to the familiar haunts that are known. He did not, just like my mother, ever e-mail me, or call, videochat or text me on Threema. The level of unnecessary stress, and sheer stupidity was mind blowing. How we arrived at this ridiculous of a place, I do not know. Regardless, I was happy that I never told anyone about my plans. A secret trip to Europe was needed, even if so much chaos ensued back home from a lack of due diligence on their parts.

In closing…

My secret European holiday was a phenominal experience. The cultures, food, drinks, history, architecture, and people were all so wonderful. I was curious how Amsterdam would be my first city in Europe. The original plan was London, England. However, as I began planning my trip, months in advance, Amsterdam had the best flight schedules and pricing. And so, accepting the facts as they were, Amsterdam was chosen.

Some people question how things come to be. What reason could there be for this place to be the welcoming to Europe? Why would Amsterdam initiate me into European culture and society? When did the universe decide to begin my experience of Europe in this city? These are all great questions.

The pre-travel research that was conducted on Amsterdam revealed the answers. Amsterdam is the home of many things that I hold personally dear. Classical liberalism is credited to have originated here. The first stock marked, celebrating capitalism, as we know the stock markets today, also orginated in Amsterdam, not London. Personal liberty, freedom of expression and thought, Capitalism, even influential Western philosophy had a home in Amsterdam before it made its way across the Atlantic ocean to our Founding Fathers and the US Constitution. There are so many things that I personally hold dear that originated in Amsterdam. To me, it made all the sense in the world that Amsterdam would be the gateway city for me into Europe. All it took was a little research.

To conclude, if you ever have time, make the trip to Europe. Amsterdam, Berlin and Warsaw were incredible cities within incredible countries. I look foward to revisiting these places and more in the future. Europe is a magical group of countries filled with historically significant thing after thing after thing. It is truly something to experience. Not to simply read about or see in photos or videos. It is enriching and I’m thankful for all the wonderful Europeans I met while abroad.

If Europe can inspire Walt Disney, it’s a guarentee that she’ll inspire you too.

Dowiedzenia!

PS: That means “good bye” in Polish

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