The Invisible Airport Munich

A haunted place of mischief and bad spells

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Hi, Mentatrix readers and friends, please beware of Airport Munich: it’s haunted.

I know, Halloween was several weeks ago, but these evil charms and creatures won’t be content with one day a year. They work their mischief continually to make sure that stupid humans are taught to stay away.

If you’re new here, or a chance reader, Mentatrix is a place for self-reflection. You might wonder what Airport Munich has to do with this. Well, it’s one of those Invisible Heroes: they do their work in a dark corner, invisible to our eyes, but their doings pull their strings on us.

Self-reflection task: see our limits, spot the dangers, fight them or avoid them.

You’ll think I’ve gone mad, but it happened three times in a row.

Spook one

A bewitched beauty is sleeping in the cargo bay at Airport Munich. She won’t be disturbed, because the only way for her to be awakened is a magic kiss of a charming prince. The spell needs to be safeguarded; that’s why flights whose cargo might be rolling past the princess are diverted or simply cancelled.

I’m a credible witness to that. My flight from Rome to Basel via Munich two years ago was first delayed by half an hour, then another hour, and then cancelled. I’d been offered, on dropping off my bag, to take another flight via Frankfurt, but superstitious as I sometimes am, I refused; I didn’t want last-minute changes. The flight to Frankfurt took off on time, while I was wondering how to kill my time in the terminal. It was well on its way when I heard my flight’s cancellation being announced. Frankfurt, my favourite town in central Germany: I’ll go for you next time, I thought!

I got home at midnight, after three planes and many hours of waiting.

But — and this is a human trait, let us reflect on its evil spell: we forget the learnings.

That’s why Spook Two followed.

Spook two

A year later, who was flying to and back from Cyprus via Munich? Me, of course. Pushed my luck, is what I did.

You see, the frog prince is always on the prowl; how else would he find the one to kiss him? Be honest: would you kiss a frog?

So, once you’re on the airport grounds, the frog prince is working his mischief to hold you there.

mischievous frog prince

I got to Munich from Larnaca uneventfully around 9 pm. The next flight was bound for Stuttgart, where my car was parked, at 9.45 pm. The gates close by. A plane landed and docked in right there. Piece of cake. Soon I’ll be getting into my car and driving home.

And then, it was 9.30 and still no boarding. A short delay, we were told. 20 minutes. Okay.

10.15: a further delay with the suitable apologies.

10.30: We’re afraid that there’s a problem. We have no personnel to unload the bags from the previous flight.

Hello? International Airport Munich? The staff has gone to bed?

The announcement goes on: the real problem is, if we can’t unload the plane in fifteen minutes, we can no longer take off, as the airport in Stuttgart closes at midnight.

Bam! You gotta be kidding. I know shops have conservative opening hours in Germany, to protect the employees’ rights, but airports? Do they lock the doors and go home, while the delayed plane can f.. off?

10.45: We have managed to start unloading the plane, but this is incredible: the crew is nowhere to be found, they must have left home.

The frog prince has no limits in his resourcefulness and powers. He cut off all the strings that could have (should have) taken us away from Airport Munich. Now we were stuck there.

What else he did to keep me stuck there?

1. He gave me three wretched hours of sleep that night in an airport hotel because I couldn’t get my bag and try to find a train to Stuttgart. You’ll be happy to guess that there was no personnel left to handle luggage by the time I’d been through the customer services queue, which was about midnight.

2. In the morning, I had to go through airport security and walk into the arrivals area so I could pick up my bag. But my bag was nowhere. I went out of the airport, back to the info desk, queued with the special needs passengers, went through security again, and after two hours of airport sightseeing, finally got the certainty that the bag couldn’t be tracked. They’ll send it to my home address, if I can only download the bloody app, enter my details and activate notifications. Thank you, Lufthansa, thank you Airport Munich! And you, frog prince, you’ll never get me to kiss you. Go kiss yourself.

You’d expect this story to have left its lessons etched on my mind with all the crisp details. And still, who flies back from Romania to Basel via Munich, AGAIN?

Me, of course.

Spook three

Uneventful flight from Cluj, Romania, to Munich. Three hours to go until the next flight. A bit of shopping; noticing a queue for customer services (poor guys, had their flight cancelled!); going into duty-free for a mascara; sitting down in a restaurant to have the one decent meal that day; and taking out my phone.

And then, a notification from Lufthansa: your flight got cancelled.

Now I know who the poor guys are, queueing at customer services. Forget the meal, get up and find the quickest way out of this spooky place.

You see, in Airport Munich there’s an evil gremlin who will only set you free if you guess his name. He dances wildly around a fire, rubbing his hands with delight at the human hostages he holds.

People try their luck: Mefisto?

No no no.

Dracula?

No no no.

Trump?

No no no.

Now, I did have the past experiences that would have taught me something.

I now had the Lufthansa app. I knew how to search for flight alternatives before joining the queue. The flights were via Zurich (if no cancellation!) and got me to Basel at 2 a.m. I had no car, so I would need to take the train back home — but German Railways, you won’t be surprised, lock the shop at midnight, too.

I also knew now that you can say, keep your flight alternatives, I’ll take the train. The bot assistant said, you need help from a colleague at the counter, but again, I knew better. I could search for my own train, and claim the money back later.

But my bag!

The marshal supervising the queue said, “Go downstairs and pick up your bag at band 7”. “You sure?” I asked. “If I go through that door, I won’t have to come back, will I?” Still wincing at the memory of that trip from Larnaca, a year ago.

“No, you’ll be fine.”

“But how does the system know to spit my bag out? Don’t I have to notify anyone that I’m not staying for a connecting flight?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Never quite sure how to take reassurances on Airport Munich, from Lufthansa people. Is that the name of the gremlin?

“Never trust.”

I went out through that door. But the gremlin marshalling the queue had still given me bullshit. Getting to band 7, there was no bag, of course. Opposite, the Lufthansa luggage tracking office; I went in. The lady called out for my bag in their system, and fifteen minutes later here it was. The marshal gremlin had wanted me to wait endlessly for a bag that I didn’t claim.

So you see, I’ll stick to my learning from now on and stay away from Airport Munich.

Let the princess sleep on, the frog prince pull his mischievous strings, and the gremlin dance around his fire.

Airport Munich is a spooky vault.

What places have you learned to stay away from? What invisible creatures have you encountered that you’d better steer clear of?