August, 1993:
All of my work this month was spent outside the U.S. First I flew to Frankfurt, Germany, where I conducted two air talent seminars for FFH (and Hans-Dieter Hillmoth) and Munich’s Antenne Bayern (headed by European radio legend Michael Haas). Then we all moved to Munich, where Antenne Bayern played host to my How To Create Maximum Impact Radio Advertising seminar.
Inasmuch as this was my first flight on Lufthansa, as we left Los Angeles I asked my seatmate what kind of experience to expect.
“Well, this is a German airline, and they don’t care so much about the food or the service.” — we (ahem) were in First Class — “But you can expect everything to run smoothly and on time; Germans are very concerned about efficiency.” (My seatmate, by the way, was German.)
I kept remembering this prediction when, an hour into the flight, my seatmate couldn’t get his leg rest to retract back into his seat…and a flight attendant spent nearly two hours trying to force it back.
And I did sense a certain irony in the fact that the video monitor was on the fritz, going dark for 10 seconds every couple of minutes for the entire flight. (Movies are very welcome on 10-hour flights.)
As usual (I’m getting spoiled in this regard), people were very nice to me…with a couple of sullen (and very minor exceptions). I clearly remember the wordless customs official at the airport in Munich; he just stared silently at me and handed back my passport. “Nice chatting with you,” I offered as I left.
My taxi driver from the airport to my Frankfurt hotel also said nothing from the time I reached his cab to the time we reached the hotel. At the hotel, we both got out, he opened up the trunk, and then he thoughtfully stepped out of the way to allow me to remove all of my luggage myself.
As I removed my little luggage cart, it came into contact with the outside of the trunk and removed almost enough paint to cover the point of a safety pin. Suddenly the driver became very talkative, pointing to the virtually invisible paint damage and punctuating his screaming with wild gestures.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Sorry? Sorry??” He ranted on and on in German, obviously expecting me to thrust large amounts of money at him. I stood and watched for a minute or so, and he didn’t let up.
Finally I asked, “Would you like me to call a tow truck for you?” At this, he stormed to the front of the vehicle and drove off.
One odd thing about the very nice hotel in Frankfurt:
During my 2 – 3 days there, I never saw another hotel guest. Of course, German cities empty in August as residents go on vacation. But it was spooky to be the only human being in the restaurant each morning for the standard European breakfast (which typically is included with hotel room rates). Lots and lots of food set out, buffet style…just for me.
On my first evening in Frankfurt, Hans-Dieter Hillmoth took me for a great dinner at a restaurant directly overlooking the Rhine River. (Gee, this demanding life of mine sure is tough.)
One habit that appears peculiarly American is expecting soft drinks to be served cold. Fruit drinks and sodas were brought during break time at FFH, and I innocently asked someone, “Do you have any ice?”
He looked at me oddly and replied, “No. Why do you ask?”
(By the way, when travelling in Europe, don’t look for Diet Coke. It’s called “Coke Light,” “diet” having a negative connotation there.)
Because I was there for three days, I was able to spend a rare few hours walking around Frankfurt, which is the most “American” of German cities. One very interesting structure that caught my attention was an 8-story vertical shopping mall called Les Facettes.
On this walking tour, I kept noticing the word schmuck in shop windows.
What, am I being called names by German shopkeepers? Turns out “schmuck” means “decorations” or “ornaments” — which can apply to the things you hang on Christmas trees as well as things people hang on themselves for decoration (e.g., jewelry).
In Munich, (actually, Unterfohring, just outside the city), I stayed in a very lovely, small hotel. Accommodations were pretty cramped; it was like staying in a tiny college dorm room. But it was very charming and homey.
While waiting for a ride to Antenne Bayern the first morning, I went for a stroll around the neighborhood. A woman came by, walking her dog, and stopped to chat with me for several minutes. She went on and on about her beloved pooch, and I quite enjoyed the conversation…even thought I don’t speak or understand German. I simply nodded my head a lot, laughed when it appeared appropriate, and offered a casual wave goodbye as she departed.
On my last evening in Munich, Mike Haas took me into the city for a meal at a real German restaurant…where they ran out of beer. (No, it wasn’t due to my over-imbibing; I don’t drink.) Mike found this to be particular embarrassing.
Both the leg rests and the video projectors worked on the Lufthansa flight home. And shortly before landing in Los Angeles, the First Class crew rolled out their big surprise for the passengers: a barrel of beer.
