Let’s lob in a couple of stereotypes here. Stereotype number one: Germans love their cars, and they love to make them go “vroom.” Stereotype number two: taxi drivers are aggressive drivers. So, I probably need to have my head examined for having us get into a German cab Sunday morning to go to the airport.

I can now officially report that I have gone as fast in a car as I ever have in my life. I felt as if the driver was going extremely fast on the highway, so I leaned over to see the speedometer and it had just hit 200 kph, which, for those keeping score, is 120 mph. Keep in mind this was on a highway with a speed limit of 78 mph. It was terrifying, but what was I going to say? It was by far the riskiest thing we did all vacation, and I was glad to get to the airport. To firm up my notion of avoiding German cabs, the fare was 70 euros ($78), and the driver tried to sell me a $50 Canadian bill for 25 euros (it is worth 35 euros), even through he was at the airport, where he could have exchanged it for the going rate.

To add insult to irony, the world’s fastest cab got us to the airport at 8:00 am, which is what I was aiming for. Our flight was at 11:50, and we had missed a flight in Italy a few years ago because of oversleeping, and it took us three full hours to get to the plane in Toronto two weeks ago. So, I was being cautious. After wandering around the airport for a few minutes and asking a couple of people where Air Canada was, we found the desk. Which was closed. Until 9:00 am. We were gently chastised for getting there so early by another airport official, saying we needed to be there three hours early. This went over well with me, as you can imagine, and Meredith was only smug for a couple of seconds before becoming supportive (she tends to favor getting to the airport three hours ahead).

We did manage to get to the gate about two hours ahead of the flight because security checks were efficient. Then, I set off in search of water for Meredith, who gets super dehydrated on planes. I searched most of the wing of the airport we were in, and there were no drinking fountains anywhere. So, I shelled out $5 each for two water bottles and returned to Meredith.

Then, I set off in search for breakfast. I searched most of the wing of the airport we were in, and I found only four restaurants, two of which were serving lunch foods already, and one of the other ones was a sit-down place only. I have not come across such a huge expanse of airport without food places in my travels — the wing of the airport we were in had over eighty gates. I suppose they could not fit food in between the 80% of retail space devoted to duty-free shopping. Really, who decides to buy jewelry or watches at the airport? Someone must, because the shops were everywhere.

I walked up to the counter of the one remaining food place and looked at the list of foods. I asked for a ham and cheese croissant. They did not have those. Sigh. I’ll have scrambled eggs to go. There is a ten minute wait for those. Sigh. I’ll have the ham and cheese pretzel. Please sign this mortgage agreement. At least I had breakfast finally.

The rest of the trip home went well. The flight was very calm except for the last ten minutes of coming in to land in Toronto, when we hit some turbulence, which made Mer feel ill to her stomach. It did take us ninety minutes to get off the plane, get our luggage, get through customs, and get back to our car, but I had expected that. From Toronto, it is a four-and-a-half hour drive home, although it usually takes us a little more than five hours since we stop a couple of times to stretch and get gas. So, we got home around 10:00 pm (4:00 am in Germany) to kitties who seemed happy to see us, judging by the frantic need for petting they required. The hotel-to-home stage took about twenty-one hours, but I can’t lay any blame for delays on the taxi ride.