I managed to catch a flight from Zurich back to Toronto on Tuesday. Airspace over Switzerland had been shut down since Saturday.
I naturally gave up hope of flying out Monday, the day of the original flight and had re-booked for Friday, via Heathrow.
Friday I said a tearful (oops) goodbye to my colleagues at swissinfo, the international service of the Swiss Broadcasting Corporation. I spent more than two wonderful years in Bern (and Zurich, Geneva, Bangladesh, Washington, Sierra Leone and Liberia). I cleared my cubby hole, desk and hard drive.
Monday I was back at work, at the Zurich airport, interviewing stranded passengers. It at least gave me something to do.
I showed up again on Tuesday, hoping for something. The line was long, like the stand-by list. Zurich airport's check-in desks are staffed by people who work for a company called Swissport. That meant they don't do things like rebookings, even at the airline counters - at least not for Air Canada.
I'd given up hope I would get home before Friday (and there were murmurs British airspace would be shut again) when I got a telephone call from my mother saying she had gotten me a seat on the flight. Mothers are great for these kinds of things.
My baggage was rushed to the airport. I found out several minutes later Air Canada wanted 275 francs to ship my stage piano home. It's still in Switzerland.
I am not. AC879 departed on time and some 18 hours after I got up, I found myself in an airport van.
From air traffic to 401 traffic. The latter is slower and more congested.
Home now, sorting and unpacking, trying to match socks.
More to come.