It's the weight koncept, stupid!

9 Mar 2008

Days away from boyz: 8
Weight gained from too much schnitzel: 2 kg
Hours of sleep during previous night: 5

Up too early for a Sunday, but have to fly to Copenhagen. Shower. Pump. Makeup. Dress. Pack. Struggle with luggage down to check out.

Traveling without Luke while breastfeeding is such an ordeal. In addition to my suitcase, briefcase and purse, I also feature a bright red duffel bag on wheels, containing a hard-sided cooler filled with two thermal bags of blue ice blocks and whatever liquid gold I’ve produced during the trip. Oh yes, and my Pump in Style portable pump. (I’m not kidding – that’s what they named it. Were THEY kidding?!)

To the car. Haul in the luggage. Drive. Arrive. Give back rental car. Walk. Walk. Walk. Uh oh, escalator, no elevator. Five bags. Escalator. Uh oh. After a leap and a prayer, plus some superb balancing skills, I manage to wedge myself and my luggage onto the escalator. Whew, made it. Walk. Walk. Walk. Looking for counter 278. Arrive and approach.

Young guy behind the counter, seems friendly enough. Yes, I’m checking luggage – um, I look like a pack mule – did he really need to ask? Can barely hoist the bags on the belt. He tags them. And then stops.

“Are you the weight concept or the peace concept?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“Did they explain the weight concept or the peace concept?”
Did he mean “wait” concept? Everything takes forever here, but no one ever bothered to acknowledge it, so he must mean weight. And I’m all for peace, believe me.
“Ah, you’re the weight concept.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about MY weight, but my mind flitted to the large meat and potatoes meals I’d been eating since arrival.
“Yes, it is the weight concept.” He repeats.
“I don’t know the concepts. No one talked to me about the concepts.” I confess.
“The weight concept. You are the weight concept.”
“Right, but what is the concept?”
“The weight concept.”
“ Right. So, are you saying my luggage weighs too much?” I ask. (C’mon, I’ve got a plane to catch!)
“It’s the weight concept. You will have to pay more.” And then he continues. “You were the peace concept when you left the States, so you could only have 2 pieces (ahhh, the PIECE concept) but now that you’re an American traveling in Europe (I'm not kidding - he said this. An "American traveling in Europe", like if I was Indonesian I'd be ok...) you are the weight concept. You can only have 20kg and you have, um, 33kg.” He politely and efficiently points to the scale on the counter.
“Fine,” I say, “what do I owe you?” as I whip out my credit card and place it onto the counter.
At this point, we spend about 5 minutes as he shows me the different screens with my name on them and the concepts, as if to prove that he's not making this up. I've never had an airline employee share quite so much of their computer terminal with me...
“Is the difference between 22 and 33, 11?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply. (where did the 22 come from????)
“Oh. I calculated this based on 9. Wait a moment. Yes, you owe €110.”
(egad! That’s a lot!! And clearly I didn't get the sharpest crayon in the box here...)
“Fine. I've got to catch a plane. Here you go.” I push my card closer to him.
“No,” he says incredulously. "You must go to counter 137-139 to pay."
I look at him in disbelief.
“Do I have to take my luggage?” I moan.
“No, it’s tagged and will go to the plane. (He had me at “no.”) But you won’t have a boarding pass until you pay. You must go to the counter where they handle the money. Just walk back to the first hall, go left, then look for the B, where you go right but keep to the left.” And then, with a smile:
“It’s really quite simple!”

Right.