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  We missed our connecting flight in Frankfurt. So, Germany became the first country Hilda has visited... if staying at an airport hotel for 11 hours can be considered as "visiting" a country.

But boy, you should have seen us running through the Frankfurt airport. (A technical problem delayed our plane so we had, like, 20 minutes to make our connection). We pushed ground staff, we hopped around businessmen, over tables and chairs, and up some stairs. (sorry about that, Hilda).

And once at the gate:

"From Helsinki to Boston?" she said
"Yes!!" we yelled.
"I'm sorry, you missed your flight"
"What the fuck, why couldn't somebody fucking tell us before our fucking plane landed?" Risto said, politely.
"I'm sorry, didn't they tell you?"

Jessi collapsed at a nearby chair. Risto was a walking fountain of sweat. In Frankfurt.

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