This was the first word that anyone spoke to us once we were off the plane and officially back in Germany after the holidays. We approached the area for our passports to be checked, and I saw an open kiosk. Well, “open” inasmuch as there was no one in line, there were two unoccupied employees at the booth, and everything else about the set-up and appearance of the kiosk would suggest that they were waiting to check passports.
So we dragged our heavy, enormous luggage over there. Silly me.
“GESCHLOSSEN!” one man yelled at me. Then again, for good measure. Ever read in fancy novels about how certain characters are “stony-faced?” Yes, that. Very much. And I got a really good look at his face because he was just sitting there doing nothing. Except for yelling at me, and indicating that I should get in another line.
So we dragged all of our luggage back to the original line, which was now a few passengers longer.
No more than fifteen seconds later, the original Geschlossen-Mann came out from behind his kiosk, unclipped part of the partition leading to his kiosk, and was
smiling curtly nodding and waving us back to his line. Apparently we were just 15 seconds too early for the designated “standing in this particular line” time. He checked us in quickly and without asking any questions or really, saying anything at all.
And with that, welcome back home(?) to Deutschland.