April, 1996 (continued):
The second stop on my whirlwind European tour — 11 seminars in 8 cities and 5 countries in 13 days —was Frankfurt, Germany.
I arrived at the Frankfurt Airport Sheraton Hotel (which is literally adjacent to the airport) on Saturday night, checked in, took out my computer, and — congratulating myself on how organized I was — plugged it into the A/C outlet with the special adaptor I had brought with me.
Without an adaptor, you can forget about inserting an American plug into a European outlet. Then I dutifully downloaded my waiting e-mail from CompuServe. (This was, after all, 1996…)
The next morning, I checked out of the hotel and Hans-Dieter Hillmoth picked me and drove us over to FFH, with whose promotion and production staffs I spent the day working out the details of a big station promotion idea.
At the end of the day, shortly before I was to return to the airport to continue my travels, I decided to check for any new e-mail. I opened up my computer case, removed my Powerbook, took out the A/C plug…but could not find the adaptor.
I searched all through my computer case and my tote bag (in which I keep a ready supply of aspirin; Dramamine; various medications to protect me from the ravages of any type of foreign germ or virus that might unexpectedly attack my respiratory, digestive or intestinal functions; scissors; pens; and electrical extension cord). It wasn’t there.
The most logical explanation was that when I unplugged the computer that morning in my hotel room, I inadvertently left the adaptor (but not the A/C plug itself) in the electrical socket.
From FFH, I called the hotel and asked the front desk to send someone up to my (now vacated) room and see if that’s where the adaptor was. After a few minutes on hold, I was told my hunch was right; a bellman had found and retrieved it for me.
By now, however, it was time for me to return to the airport; my flight would leave shortly. Hans-Dieter suggested that after we reach the airport I go ahead and check in for my flight while he hurried next door to the hotel to collect my adaptor.
(Again, this was 1996 — long before major airports routinely sold electrical adaptors for international travelers).
I rushed into the terminal, checked in for my flight, and began looking for Hans-Dieter; the flight would leave in just a few minutes, and I still had to go through security and get to the boarding area.
Right on cue, Hans-Dieter appeared, adaptor in hand. I pocketed the wayward device, thanked him profusely, then hustled off to catch my flight to Finland.
A few hours later I was in my new hotel room in Helsinki, where I set up my Powerbook on the desk, unfurled the electrical plug…and could not find the adaptor. The last time I had seen it was at the airport in Frankfurt, when it went from Hans-Dieter’s hand to mine to my pocket. It wasn’t there now.
I never found it.
And, come to think of it, I never happened to mention to Hans-Dieter that I lost it again.
Next installment: Why I should live in Finland.
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Dan, it was your karma !