It was actually closer to ten before the belt started up and the first bags pushed their way into view. Why is it that some people have to stand right next to the belt blocking everyone else from getting their bags? I spotted my bag coming out but then had to barge through the belt blockers to drag it free of the other luggage.

That would've been okay but the inertia had me stumbling backwards, tripping over another passengers pile of hand luggage which deposited me onto the floor. Great and i've got a skirt on too. I quickly scrambled to my feet, I don't think anyone saw, stupid place to leave bags.

I retreated away from the baying crowds, one bit of luggage collected, two more to go.
 
It was fully fifteen minutes later before my two bike boxes and the suitcase were balanced on a trolley.

“You alright with that Gaby?” Frank asked.
“As long as there's not any corners.”
“I can push it for you,” he offered.
“I'm fine, really,” I stubbornly replied.
“Come on then, the others are a bit ahead of us.”

I pushed down on the handle and with a bit of a heave got the trolley moving. Hmm, maybe I was a bit hasty insisting on pushing, its not the weight so much as its awkward and I can barely see over my case. Somehow I managed to not run anyone down on the way through customs, I'm sure the officials were laughing at my antics as I slalomed through.

“Bugger!” Frank exclaimed.

I hit the brake but even so nearly ran the boss over as momentum carried the laden trolley forward.

“What's up?” I queried poking my head around my case.
“Wait here a minute.”
'There she is!'
'Gaby, over here!'

I peered past my bags again, looks like there is a welcoming committee of sorts, lots of cameras at least. Frank came back.

“The airport people want us to use the press room, you okay with a quick Q and A?”
“I guess.”
 
And so ten minutes later I found myself sat behind a table with Paul and Frank in the airport's press room, I had managed a quick pit stop for some mascara and hair tidy, slung my gongs around my neck, good to go. I looked out over the assembled media types, okay there's not hundreds of them but I, we have attracted a reasonable showing. The rest of our party were stood at the back of the room along with what I guess are some parents including my own to whom I gave a quick wave.

Frank took control of things, I don't suppose he's any more used to this stuff than me when it comes to it but he is at least older. Things got underway, introductions made and the questions started.

“Gaby, did you expect to win when you left?”
I gathered my thoughts before replying, “Expect, no. Obviously I thought i'd be in with a chance of a podium for the time trial but the road race, well there are too many variables, it all comes down to luck on the day.”
“Paul, were you inspired by Gaby's win?”
“Not really, we didn't know the girls result, Gaby's right about luck, I never thought i'd podium, John was our podium hope, when the crash happened I was clear of the carnage and just took my chance.”

There was more in this sort of vein, but my fifteen minutes of fame were quickly drawing to a close.

“So what's next then Gaby?”
“Now, well get home, do the washing and get ready for college tomorrow.”

This resulted in a few smiles and chuckles.

“I meant on the bike Gaby,” the hack put in.
“Oh right,” it was an easy mistake to make, “Well I'll probably do a bit of cross this winter, then I guess I'll be aiming to retain my National titles and maybe have another crack at the Worlds.”
“What about Beijing, the Olympics?” another reporter asked.
“Well it would be nice but I only step up to the seniors a few months before hand, I'm sure there are plenty of more deserving riders for those spots.”
“But you'd go if selected?”
“Wouldn't you? Of course I would, what greater honour is there for any sports person, China would be nice but I guess London in 2012 is more realistic, I'll have more experience and I think conditions will suit me well.”
Frank spoke up at this point, “Thank you ladies, gentlemen, its been a long trip and we're all tired so if we can wrap up now?”
 
Well the talking was over but we then did another five minutes mugging for the cameras before we were able to return to the real world – well as real as an airport facility goes. I was soon enveloped by Mum and Dad, I'm glad the cameras are gone, I couldn't stop a few tears rolling down my cheeks. Eventually though I was released, time to get a grip.

“Frank,” Dad greeted, “Thanks for looking after our girl.”
“A pleasure Dave, sorry you couldn't be there.”
“Maybe it was for the best, anyway we should get this pair home.”
“You're taking Talia? I was a bit concerned about getting her home.”
“She'll stay at ours tonight then Jen's gonna drive her up tomorrow.”
“Good, good, I'll give you a call before the weekend about next season, see you soon girls.”
“Bye Frank.”

A quick round of farewells, Izzy was actually going into Frankfurt with Annika, we'd already exchanged phone numbers so we'd talk later. Dad took charge of my trolley and led the way out of the terminal, he'd borrowed the team minibus which was too big for the car parks so it was a relatively short walk out to the 'bus' pick up area. It took a bit of effort to get three bike boxes inside but eventually we were sorted and we started the journey back to the Ahrtal.
 
After the reception at the airport I was half expecting a welcoming committee when we got back home, it was a bit of a disappointment really when we drove into our road to find no one waiting. Definitely a reality check. The house was empty of course, Mand wasn't home from Bonn and my sister was of course off with Boris sorting out University stuff – if you believe that. Oh well, like I said before, fifteen minutes of fame.

The homecoming wasn't a total non event, there was a pile of cards waiting for me and when I remembered to actually switch the phone on, about twenty texts each beeped their newly arrived presence. It was sort of strange being home, not like a normal race trip, this time i'd been away on my own, no Dad, no Angels, it has only been me absent.

“What's for dinner?” I enquired after the unpack and a shower.
“Best speak to your Dad I think he was planning on going out to eat.”
“Where is he?”
“Where do you think?” Mum asked.
“Garage,” I allowed.
 
You'd think he'd get tired of sorting out bikes but no, first thing he does when we get home is check them out. He'll no doubt have them all cleaned and serviced before we eat, guess it makes sense, i'd leave it to just before I needed them. I padded down into the bike cavern.

“What's up?”
“Just sorting your wheels out, what the hell did you hit?”
“There was a level crossing, must've been an edge I guess.”
“Sure made a job of the tubes,” he mentioned pointing over to the work bench.

I picked up one of the discarded tubes, the dual slits were impressive, I'm guessing some sort of pinch puncture, there's no way it was going to see life on a bike again.

“Mum said we're going out to eat?” I hinted.
“Unless you fancy cooking?”
“Not really.”
“I was thinking the Anker?”
“Works for me.”
“I'll finish up with this then, Manda home?”
“Think so,” well I heard somone talking to Tali on the way downstairs.
Dad checked the time, “Okay half an hour then.
“I'll go rouse the troops.”
 
If you recall, Der Anker is over the river from the kiosk up in Altenahr, right next to the river, a fairly traditional menu in a very traditional setting – all dark wood and hunting trophies. Okay so its not to everyones taste but personally I find it reassuring that there are these places, back in England they so often get gutted and replaced by either bland or over decorated kitsche. Der Anker also holds a special place for me as it was my first exposure to real Germany when we came over to see Mum race, a year before we moved here.

“Eating out!” I yelled on my way up to the eyrie.
Mand's head appeared around her door, “Where?”
“Anker.”
“Cool.”

I continued into my room and headed to the wardrobe, now what to wear? Okay, its not a major dress up job but its not Maccy D's either, a certain standard is expected – well by Mum anyway. smart casual is the way, which translated to the contents of my cupboard means a dress. Nothing fancy or revealing, I settled on a printed cord pinnafore over a short sleeved roll neck, smart and comfortable, a pair of tights providing a bit of extra warmth.

When I got back down the troops were gathered, Tal in borrowed blouse and cullottes, Mand opting for a pretty slip dress with a sort of lacy bolero thing. Mum was suitably smart in full cut trousers and blouse, Dad looking equally smart in typical German fashion, collarless jacket over shirt and tan slacks. Of course, the whole illusion was destroyed somewhat by our steed, the be-stickered A Klasse – well you can't have everything.

“So, whats it to be champ?” Dad enquired.
I flicked the menu pages back and forth, “Well either the Wildbraten or Leberknödel.”
“Well make your mind up, Hans is on his way back over.”
“Yes Dad,” I sighed, “Liver.”

“Ready?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice behind me, how does he do that?

“I think so,” Dad told him, “I'll have the lamb, can I get boiled taters with that please.”

The others placed their orders, trout for Mum and Tal, mixed grill for Mand.

“And for Gaby?”
“Can I get the Leberknödel please.”
“Okay, we okay for drinks?”
“I think so, for now,” Dad told our waiter.
 
“Its on my bucket list,” Mand sighed.
“Bucket list?” Tal queried.
“You know, stuff I want to do, places to go,” Mand informed her.
“Ah!”

Me and Tal had just regaled everyone with our visit to Niagra Falls – was that only yesterday? Feels like ages ago.

“I think we were near there a couple of years ago,” Mum suggested, “New York state at least.”
“And you didn't go to the falls?” Mand asked.
Mum shrugged, “There's not often time for sightseeing.”
“Maybe it should be a compulsory stage in the races,” Tal joked, “Instead of a prologue you have to go and do the tourist stuff then answer questions on what you see to get time bonus's.”
“Bit like orienteering,” I quipped.

Dad just shook his head.

“Not sure that'd go down too well,” Mum mentioned.
“Well on that note,” Dad started, “Its getting late and some of you have places to be in the morning.”
“Uh,” I moaned, “College.”
“You don't have to go,” Mum opined, “But don't expect me and your Dad to support you sat on your bum doing nothing.”

Spell it out for me why don't you.

“Guess i'd better go then, you want that mint Dad?”
 
Maddy Bell © 21.11.2018