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What Missed Connections Taught Me About Travel
Instead of crossing the Atlantic, I landed in a bar in Freising — and could not have been happier
I was supposed to be 34,000 feet over the North Atlantic.
But a tight connection and a forgotten bag at security in the labyrinth that is Munich International Airport brought me instead to a bar in Freising, Germany, where students sang along to decades-old American music.
“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong …”
I took a seat at the bar, greeted the older bartender in German and asked, in English, for a beer.
He served me a Spaten and apologized for the noise.
“This is a town of 8,000 university students,” he said, competing with the loud music.
I had no complaints.
After walking all over town, this was the atmosphere I was looking for.
The last transatlantic flight of the evening pulled away while I was still haggling with security.
By the time I arrived at the tram that would take me to my terminal, my plane was taxiing for takeoff.
