My mom, dad, sister, and newly-minted brother-in-law came to Munich this year for Christmas. We weren't going to be able to make it back to the US for the holidays this year, so it was either fly solo or get lucky enough to have family members make the trek to us. Happily and unexpectedly, it was the latter. The week they spent here was great, fraught only with the occasional mishap.
It started out a little rocky. A few days before her departure, Mom warned me that travel to Europe was rough on account of the crazy storms. I looked out at Munich's blue skies, modest 2 inches of snow, and chalked it up to her not-completely-infrequent bouts of paranoia.
Take last year's Swine Flu debacle, for example. I was pregnant at the time, and my mom was watching way too much TV news, news that was apparently chanting "Get your pregnant daughters vaccinated. NOW!" I wasn't opposed to the vaccine, mind you. I shudder to think of the conflict if that had been the case. No, I'd done my homework and decided it was a good idea to get, especially with my then-impending international travel. What I was, in my mother's eyes, was fool hardy and lazy in my attempts to obtain the shot. (Nevermind that I went to two vaccination clinics and called my ob/gyn, all for naught, being told that the manufacturing was behind and that it would be a few weeks before supply caught up to demand.) She became some sort of vaccine-hunting vigilante, calling every doctor listed and attempting to befriend receptionists, certain that they could get us into the inevitable swine flu vaccine black market cache. She listened to county health department 800 number recordings over and over again, sure that a message would reveal itself in code. After weeks of upping the fear ante, culminating with the possibility that fast-moving pig zombies were targeting pregnant Michiganders in their bloodthirsty quest to annihilate humanity, I got my shot, suffered no barnyard or other zoological disease during the remainder of gestation, and the matter was put to rest.
So, anyways, I thought that the Euro travel thing was of a similar vein. E.g. "The CNN says that Martial Law has taken over in every European airport! Oh the humanity........." I told her that I thought everything would be fine. And when I woke up the morning of their arrival to find that their flight from Amsterdam to Munich had been canceled indefinitely, I started to give the CNN a little more credit.
My parents finally arrived after a lucky break with standby some 10 hours later, but were luggage-less. Losing one's luggage is always an unfortunate ordeal. But this was Christmas. All of my mom's gifts were in there. And my mom goes all out for Christmas. Not necessarily in the spending department, but in the thoughtfulness. Gifts are often handmade, always personal, usually totally unexpected. She remained stoic about it, but it must have hurt.
Two days later, my sister and her husband arrived. Their trip had been seamless, thankfully. On a whim my mom mentioned to them that they might check baggage claim for their luggage. Having no evidence that their suitcases had even gotten to Munich - in fact, the airline's tracking info claimed that it was still en route - coupled with the fact that there were hundreds and hundreds of unclaimed bags in every airport, it was a long shot.
But just when you think the chips are down, that's when Quay arrives; my strapping new brother-in-law who you can't not love. For Christmas one year while he was dating my sister, be got her a new bed frame. That is, he built her a new bed frame. On top of being almost comically talented at all things handy, from carpentry to animal husbandry, he's also the warmest, most affable guy you're likely to encounter. So much so that Will has no hard feelings over losing the post of #1 son-in-law to this worthy arrival. Even Edie noticed, deciding that amid her tragic bout of mom-only separation anxiety, Quay was a-ok. As this particular legend goes, Quay and Gretchen arrive in Munich, exhausted and weary. They see mountains and mountains of luggage and are armed with only vague descriptions of my parents' nondescript Samsonites. They begin to look, and look, and look, and finally Gretchen - 22 weeks pregnant, mind you - says "I'm tired. Let's go." But that would not do, so our hero says "Just one more look." And in the end, they were victorious, and Quay saved Christmas.
So we lived what will certainly become a family tale of loss and redemption, along with a reminder to listen to your mamma - no matter how much CNN she watches.
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