Chapter Six: Rule #1, Ignore Rule #1
First Class on Emirates isn't what it used to be.....or is it?
12.02.2021 - 12.02.2021 50 °F
View Morocco + Uganda + Rwanda on paulej4's travel map.
I awoke in Paris at 8:15, brushed my teeth and put on the room kettle so I could “brew” a cup of instant coffee. Then I fired up my electronics to see what had transpired overnight. There was a text from Emirates: “EK Flight #729 Departs CDG @ 10:00am GST Gate TBD Arrives EBB @ (Check with airline) Airline Reservation Number:HH8JHS”
Panic set in. Kathy and I, last night for me and yesterday mid-day for her, thought I was on the flight at 9:35 tonight—13+ hours from now.
As would a football team down by 6 with only seconds left would, once they got the ball, I went into “hurry up” mode. I threw on my clothes and stuffed everything into my bags and raced to the Sheraton elevator to get to the Charles De Gaulle Airport Terminal. Down the long corridor I ran only to be stopped by an official who was checking tickets which must be shown in order to pass. My ticket is not on paper so I had to call up an email to show him. Minutes lost.
One enters CDG from the Sheraton’s very long hallway at check-in position 1. Emirates checks in at position 11. Another long run from 1 to 11. More precious minutes lost. By the time I reached the counter, the 9:35 flight had closed for check-in. All that rushing and perspiration it generated was for naught.
The check-in agent (who didn’t really want to be bothered by me—even though I had upgraded to First Class so that nothing would be left to chance and so the airline would bend over backward to take special care of me as only Emirates Airlines does) told me that, in any event, my ticket was “suspended.” She had no explanation for the text. She said that only the travel agent could deal with it. As she made clear to me, my mistake was in using a travel agent because since they had control of my ticketing, there was nothing she could do to help me.
Defeated, I retreated to an empty spot and called Acendas Travel once more. It is important to note that it is the middle of the night in the U.S. and Acendas is closed. However, they use a service in New York to handle a problem child like me who calls in the middle of the night. After a l o n g wait, I got a real person.
I had a choice to make and I made it. Since we were unable to figure out how to “un-suspend” HH8JHS, I made an entirely new booking. You can’t fight city hall. To ensure that I had the upper hand, I booked this reservation as well in First Class (even though it cost more) for one reason and one reason only: I needed to make sure that Emirates would treat my situation with kid gloves.
A new itinerary was created: QAXZ3F. Depart Paris at 2:25pm, arrive Dubai at 00:15 tomorrow morning (fifteen minutes after midnight). Layover there for 9 hours and 45 minutes. Board EK0729 to Entebbe at 10:00am and arrive 5 hours and 25 minutes later at 2:25pm.
I could have taken a later Emirates flight at 21:35 (9:35pm tonight) to connect with the same flight to Entebbe but Rule #1 is to allow for flight delays, worry about missing your connecting flight, the only ‘good’ connection is a ‘long’ connection. So I opted for the 2:25pm and not the 9:35pm to allow for wiggle room in Dubai creating a very long connection rather than a short one should I need it. Remember Paris last night. The length of that connection is the reason I am still in Paris.
I went back to the Sheraton (where I had secured a late checkout and where I had not surrendered my key when I raced for the earlier missed flight) and took a shower. Figuring that whatever could go wrong would go wrong, I made my way back to the Emirates check-in so that I could get my boarding passes the maximum time prior to the flight: three hours ahead, at 11:25. I was behind others in the line so it took about a half hour so I was done at 11:55. I made my way to border police and security. The lines were long. Only Air France first class gets to use the Fast-Trak lane in CDG so it was not possible with my Emirates First Class boarding pass to avoid the awful line. Halfway through the regular line, however, I saw an agent on the other side of the stanchions and thought, “What the heck.” I waved my boarding pass at him, covering the Emirates logo but making sure the bold words “First Class” were visible, and gave him the universal “What gives?” gesture. He walked over, unhooked the strap, waved me into the sorter line, re-hooked the strap and went back to from where he had come. I never looked back. That all took about an hour, now the time is 1:00pm. I head to the lounge to have a coffee and wait before boarding at 1:40pm.
It was there that I received this email from David, my arranger at National World Safaris: “Hi Paul, Apologies for bothering you with another email. I just want to make sure of something. As I’m sure you’re aware, you require a PCR covid test to enter Uganda, taken within 72h of arrival into the country. Now, with all the changes in your flights are you still able to provide this test results? If you don’t have these test results, I am aware of the possibility of taking an express PCR test in Paris airport. It takes a max of 2h. I am sure you have all this under control, but I just want to make sure everything is fine before you get into Entebbe. Best regards, David.”
He attached a link. The link showed that the test site was outside security. I was inside security. The only way I could make getting a test in Paris work was to change my Emirates flight from this 2:25pm earlier one to the later 9:35pm flight giving me time to leave security, get a new PCR test and then reenter security for the later flight. Easy enough to do and enough time to do it.
I decided to switch flights. However, the Emirates customer service telephone line requires extraordinary wait times of up to a half hour before you can get a human being on the line. Their app wouldn’t allow me to “manage my trip” for a reason I didn’t understand--probably because it was too close to boarding time. So, I made my way quickly to the boarding gate knowing they could solve my problem of switching the flight at the gate.
Arriving there at 1:20, I received a shock: They could not do it. They could not call the ticket counter. Their computer didn’t have the capability to change a flight. I would have to call the customer service line as there was no time to go back to the ticket counter (which would have been closed by then anyway because they close an hour before the flight time)
“They can easily do it,” I was told. I called the dreaded customer service line: 015 732 4999. Call Failed. Again. Call Failed. Again. Call Failed. Again. It rings. After about 4 minutes of recordings telling me to use the app or go online which I tried but wouldn’t work, I got the dreaded music on hold. I got someone on the line but got cut off. All told, I called the line (my iPhone “recents” will verify this) ten times this morning. The tenth time, after waiting with all the above aggravation—and remember—the clock is ticking—I got through. I explained my situation. The agent found my reservation. He confirmed my telephone number and email “just in case we get cut off.”
Then we got cut off. The line went dead. As dead as dead can be. My great grandfather is not as dead as this line and he, believe me, is very dead. But, I knew, I just knew, that the Emirates man would call me back. He had just verified my phone number. He did not call me back. He did not email me.
Now it is decision time. The Clash song takes over my brain: Should I Stay or Should I Go?
The Emirates gate agent rushed over to me. “Do you have the boarding pass from Air France, the one that was late that caused you to miss your connection last night?” she asked. “And do you have your existing covid test in hand?” Yes and Yes.
She took both, and returned saying, “we will let you board this flight because you left Marrakech early enough to satisfy the 72-hour rule—I think.” About that time, David was working the same angle. I was ready to walk away and head for the ticket counter to get the later flight but it would be closed for a few hours. The app wasn’t working and the customer service line was a joke. The Emirates web site behaved just as the app.
It was decision time. The entire trip is on the line. What should I do? Do I Stay or Do I Go? Watch them play it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BN1WwnEDWAM
I went.
Boarding the flight—now the last of the stragglers to do so—the Emirates Flight Services Manager, Emir, takes one look at me and asks if he can help me. I can only imagine my countenance as he looked at me. Here is this 73-year-old gray-haired man, obviously in distress. All Emir needed was for the old coot to keel over and die delaying his flight. Or, maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe Emir saw a fellow human being in need and decided to reach out—to help the poor soul. As we made our way to my seat, which means climbing stairs from the boarding door to the top deck of this double decker A380-800, tail number A6 EEV, I gave him the abbreviated version of my story. I had been assigned seat 4K but my newly printed boarding pass read 2K so again I looked as if I had never before traveled insisting that my wrong seat was my right seat. Emir took me under his care—he could work at the Starbucks in Marrakech he was so fine.
He immediately brough Mbecki, the first-class cabin steward to me. “What can we get you to drink?” Water, please. “Would you like something stronger?” Yes but I said no. “Let me take your backpacks; oh, these are heavy, how did you manage?” “Would you care for pajamas?” Yes. “Can we get you….” Enough, I said. I’m going to be fine. Mbecki could also work at Starbucks.
Emir returned. “I have spoken to the company in Dubai. There is a covid test facility at the airport but it is supposed to be only for airline personnel. I am working to see if I can get an exception made. They know your situation. We will figure something out.”
So now, as we push back from the gate at 2:36pm for our 3,483-mile 6-hour 25 minute flight to Dubai, I wait. There is a three-hour time zone change involved so that means I arrive DXB at 15 minutes after midnight--tomorrow. David is working on it, Emir is working on it. I can do nothing so I decide, to hell with it. I’m going to have a drink at the bar.
(They have a bar and a bartender on an Emirates A380-800). A Manhattan, I think. Cheers to Ryan Eudy.
That trip was the length of the upper deck of the A380--except for the first class cabin in the front, it is all business class. A couple of hours into the flight, Emir comes to tell me that he tried but an exception is not possible and I cannot use the airport Emirates employees testing site. I suggest that, since I am First Class, he book me one of the complimentary Emirates car services that goes along with this class of service, to take me to a site. He asks, “Which one?” Of course I don’t know so I throw it back at him: “Whichever site the company tells you can get the job done and can get me there and back to the airport on time.” “Ah,” he says, “Yes, good idea.”
An hour later, Mbecki comes and asks to see my boarding pass. I look at him with a confused expression to which he says, “Emir wants to see the ticket number.” For anyone else who is curious, it is 1767680239081-1.
The Curb Your Enthusiasm Larry David in me wonders if they are checking to see if I paid for this seat or if I am traveling on an upgrade from business or, worse, on miles. Certainly, when they look at my reservation number, the ticket number is there. Why would it matter? I’m full-on Larry David here. If you don’t know the show, none of this paragraph will make sense to you.
I order my dinner. Dinner is served on-demand in First. A salmon appetizer and then the filet. Nothing more to drink I decide. A scoop of ice cream for desert. Should I Stay—on my diet—Or Should I Go—off my diet? That song was now an earworm for me. My head needs to be very clear in Dubai. Another FA comes to ask if I would like my bed made up and I decline. With less than three hours to go and a shower (They have two showers and a shower attendant on an Emirates A380-800) booked for one hour prior to landing, one hour of sleep would not be a good idea for me and that’s all I could count on. I don’t wake up from sleep all that well sometimes. Ask B4. Best to stay awake.
The lights of Baghdad dominate the view out my window as we turn southeast toward Dubai, having avoided Syrian airspace. It is 20:45 here (8:45pm) and nearly lunchtime in Kansas City.
When I have finished my shower and walked to the tail to get a second Manhattan at the lounge, I return to my seat. Emir comes calling. He has ordered me a car. He says it will take me to which of these I choose: Garhoud Private Hospital (closest), The American Hospital (ten minutes farther away) or the Med Clinic City Hospital (another ten minutes). He is uncertain whether or not I can prevail on the driver to wait for me while I get a test.
Then he tells me that the Captain believes that there may be a Rapid PCR test facility in Terminal One. But, and this is important at such a massive airport, he is not sure. Then Emir reveals another interesting fact. Dubai requires some inbound passengers to take a covid test upon arrival. It all depends upon the country from which they come. South Africa about now I would expect. He says that is not normally available to people coming from approved countries, such as France. But it is worth a try, he says. To get there, however, I must avoid the transit hall take the PCR detour. I may be refused there and I may not.
So, The Clash returns—unwelcome as they are. “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” I have 45 minutes before landing to decide. That is not my style. When confronted with a decision, I make it and don’t look back. I will ask the ground staff about the Captain’s suspicion. If they say it is there, I will go to Terminal One. If they don’t know or say it isn’t there, I will follow the unapproved country passengers and see what happens. If that is disallowed, I will leave the airport, take the car Emir has ordered and head for the facility that sounds most appropriate for me: The American Hospital. It is supposed to be twenty minutes away.
Word is that the driver will not wait for me while I get the test. I must take a taxi back to the airport. It shouldn’t cost much, Emir says and at 2:00am, there should be minimal traffic.
Keep in mind: there is a chance that this is an unnecessary detour. It is possible that the Ugandan authorities will see that my test was done well before my first departure which was canceled by Royal Air Maroc. Then I will show them that it was taken 72 hours before my second departure which was El Al. Then, they will see that it was even taken 72 hours before my third departure on Air France to Paris when my connection went bust. Having said that, they will also see that it was taken more than 72 hours before the flight I am on. The Clash sings once more.
It is midnight so this day is over. I'll let you know what happens tomorrow.
