Charles de Gaulle Airport: Empty Chair, No Empty Seats

Empty chair; no empty seats

Charles de Gaulle is famous for keeping the Brits out of Europe, and now he (or his airport) has successfully kept one (me) in. Okay, okay, the UK is Europe too and I'm as much a Europhile as anyone else, but I thought the quip was too good to waste.

Anyway, over the past couple of weeks I've spent a lot of time waiting for missed connections. The week before last I got stuck in Budapest, which actually turned out really well because I was able to stay with relatives from my fiancée's side of the family, one of whom I hadn't seen for three years and the other (his daughter and partner) I met for the first time. All because of a dog on the runway at Larnaca airport in Cyprus.

Much worse was Saturday's aborted trip from Hamburg to Birmingham via Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. Due to a delay from Hamburg to CDL of about ten minutes, then waiting on the tarmac for far too long before being let out of the plane, then a very very very long brisk walk from terminal 2D to 2E (pushing in at the security check and passport control on the way) and a guy keeling over on the escalator, I missed the connection. Nothing to do with the snow, just bad organisation by Air France, who were responsible for the flight delay, which as far as I know had nothing to do with the weather, and who offered me a connection which I don't think I would have been able to make whether the flight was delayed by ten minutes or not. If I hadn't jumped the queue at security, I wouldn't have had a chance.

So I queued up at the customer service desk, where I was booked on to an evening flight to Birmingham. (They didn't offer me a copy of my rights under EU regulations as they are legally obliged to do, by the way, and neither did they offer me the two phone calls that I was supposed to be entitled to; but then again, neither did Malev Air the week before). I wasn't especially bothered, because I assumed I would make the evening flight and had learned from the week before that missed connections can be more blessing than curse. So after cashing in my lunch voucher, which I was disappointed to find was only redeemable against a very limited and -- at the restaurant I went to -- poor quality menu, I headed off into Paris to do battle with its apparently quite efficient but difficult to understand public transport system. I ended up in the Petit Palais art gallery, where I went to an art exhibition of Giuseppe De Nittis' work. A great opportunity to see a bit of Paris, which I had only been to briefly before, and get in a bit of culture.

Art galleries aren't usually my thing, but a fleeting visit to this one was actually really interesting and I'm glad I made the most of my time on that day. I even took a few photos with my phone, below.

Over the Seine

On the way into the De Nissis exhibition, Paris

I only got just over an hour in the centre of Paris, just off the Champs de Elysee but it was definitely worth it and I went back to the airport feeling a bit smug about having turned a crappy situation into an unexpected visit to one of the world's most culturally rich cities.

Once I had reached the departures area, the fun started again. The snow started falling thicker and faster, and this time it looked like the flight might have problems taking off. It was actually Birmingham airport that was closed, though; but after about 19.00 the situation looked hopeless and it was difficult to see how the flight could leave. I asked the staff for a copy of my rights under the EU regulation, but they explained that they had never heard of it and that they didn't have copies. Nothing they could do, not their fault. The staff were very poor at keeping us informed of what was going on. The only information we had was what we could get from relatives on the phone and my mobile internet connectin. I'm not looking forward to seeing my phone bill.

As soon as they finally cancelled the flight, a long queue formed and people slowly started sorting out alternative arrangements. I queued for one-and-a-half hours before being dealt with. The member of staff automatically booked me on the next Birmingham flight before I prompted her to look at alternatives. She then put me on a Manchester flight at 10.00 the following morning. Then the news that they couldn't sort out a hote. Apparently there were no spaces in hotels near the airport, which was to be expected; but they flatly refused to look for accommodation in the centre of Paris. The local transport was running -- at least the local train into Paris, as I found earlier in the day -- and I thought it was appalling that they simply refused to honour their obligations. So we slept in the terminal, along with families with small children and babies.

Again, the information was very poor (rather, non-existent); for example, the bedding material was handed out ad hoc and there was no announcement made when it was available. I had to wait another twenty minutes to get mine, and now it was about 23.30. When I finally got it, and went to settle down to sleep, a group of drunks was playing music and making noise. Despite my sarcastic comments, they carried on.

My hotel

Breakfast

The bedding was completely inadequate -- a thin foam mat and a very thin fleece blanket, plus an eye mask and an inflatable travel cushion. The floor was very hard, and I was lucky to have a thick jacket to lie on. By 5.30 it was impossible to sleep because of the announcements that were repeated every minute or so: "Passengers arriving in the terminal please check your boarding passes for your gate numbers."

So then on to breakfast, which was one danish pastry and one hot drink. No bottled water throughout the time we were stranded, and it was € 3.50 for a half litre bottle. Not wanting to stink as much as some of the other stranded passengers, I bought some deodorant. A deodorant that normally costs about €3.00 in Germany cost €6.50 there.

I then tried to get onto an earlier Manchester flight. After queuing up, I found out that there was a waiting list I knew nothing about. When I tried to get put onto the waiting list for the Birmingham flight, I was treated as though I was a little bit dense. After a long wait, completely by coincidence I heard that the airport had been closed until 11.00. An employee told a few of us who happened to be waiting at the service desk that he thought the airport would most likely be closed all day, so we should think about getting away from the airport. When I asked at the gate to have my luggage returned, the member of staff again treated me as though I was stupid for wanting to abandon my flight. Well it turned out that she was wrong. I got out before the ship sank, and headed for Gare d'Est to get a train to Karlsruhe, Germany, to be picked up by my in-laws. So my visit to the UK was called off, and I paid €160 to get back to Germany. Breaking the news wasn't easy.