There was a good possibility that I would not make another attempt to get to Berlin after the trauma of my recent holiday excursion to Newark and back. But, like giving birth, the horror of it faded sufficiently and I rebooked. This time through Dublin (there are no direct flights from O’Hare to Berlin).
As a precaution I brought a box of Dots as self-care in case I was delayed and forced to sleep in an airport terminal. Stupidly I put the box in my luggage so if I had wanted them I wouldn’t have been able to have them. I didn’t need them after all since I did make it to Berlin—not without the requisite amount of anxiety provoking delay.
We landed in Dublin 5 minutes before the flight to Berlin closed. The flight attendant, when I asked if I was going to make it, said it was 15 minutes away so I sprinted through the Dublin airport at 5:50 am. So that was fun. The distance from the gate from which I deplaned to the gate from which I’d depart was more than a mile (my iPhone told me). I made it.
And now I have Dots to enjoy at my discretion in Berlin. I may possibly be able to buy them in the American Food Store. But, really, I don’t want to go anywhere near that place.