The Papal Plane Trip: A Reporter's Diary

Pope Benedict XVI's departure from Fiumicino airport was set for Tuesday at noon. But for the Vatican media corps, the journey always begins about 24 hours before takeoff at the Holy See press office just off St. Peter's Square. From that nondescript office, 70 reporters, photographers and cameramen from a dozen nations begin what you might call the "liturgy" — sacred and otherwise — of covering a papal trip from up-close.

Tightly regimented by both long-held traditions and the minute-by-minute itinerary — 5 a.m. wakeup calls, strict dress codes and less than free and total access to His Holiness — this isn't the maximum in press liberty. But it's more a logistical than a liturgical necessity, and we are basically free to do our jobs and write what we please.

But we will see and say nothing if we don't first line up at the press office in front of the long wooden desk of Sister Giovanna, the Italian nun in charge of credentials. She hands out the press badge and a dense packet of information about the rules of behavior and the details of our movements. There are two more stops Monday morning, to Vatican radio offices for another booklet about the trip, and then to Alitalia to collect our tickets. Those who ask why these procedures aren't consolidated into a single stop will get a knowing look that Holy See officials reserve for those who just don't understand how the universe works.

There is no margin for error on such a press pool, no misplaced passport or mix-up about the schedule. If you want to be there, and be close, you can't catch the next flight or a different bus; you can't improvise new ways to get the story, or look for other people to focus on. This is the bubble — as close to the Pope as the fourth estate can get — and that's where you want to be when the story is all about the man in white. But it also means resigning yourself to stay in the bubble once you get inside it successfully.

And so,I was out the door Tuesday morning, and at Fiumicino airport with time to spare — clutching all my precious documents. The edgiest moment of the papal flight is the "dash." This is when about a half-dozen of the most rabid reporters compete to get from the tarmac minibus to the front row of the press section of the plane. It is key. While Pope John Paul II used to make the rounds up and down the aisles, chatting with reporters, Benedict has made it a habit to come back just once and stand in front of the back section to take a few formal questions. So if you want to get really close to the main event, you've got to make a run for it.

The unrivaled Jesse Owens of this contest is Phil Pullella, longtime Vatican correspondent for Reuters. Sprinting to the plane for last year's trip to Brazil, he got tangled with the equally hungry John Allen of National Catholic Reporter, knocking Allen to the tarmac in his freshly pressed suit. As we waited to board the minibus Tuesday morning, I saw Pullella had a plastic cast on his right hand, having fallen off a ladder a few weeks back. "It's a fake," he winked to me. "Then, everyone gives me the room I need." Though I couldn't compete with Phil, I did get up the stairs quickly, and somehow managed to make it into one of the precious front row seats.

This is a papacy in which the listening is more important than the watching; still, it was a kick to see the Pope's hands move in precise but gentle motions when he talked; and then rest together in front of him — fist in hand — while he listened to the questions. The "press conference" actually consisted of four questions handpicked out of the several dozen pre-submitted to papal spokesman Father Federico Lombardi. Not exactly free and unfettered press, but the Pope did offer some strong words about the priest sex abuse crisis that has deeply damaged the American Catholic Church. "We are deeply ashamed and will do all possible that this cannot happen in the future," he said. It was a sign that Benedict wants to confront the issue directly, and help heal the wounds of both victims and American Catholics in general.

Once Benedict headed back to pontiff class, we settled into coach class for our first-class lunch of ravioli and sage and Pugliese wine. Though the flight will last 10 hours, time passes quickly, as we type up our notes from the press conference, wire reporters phone in the news from the press conference, and we otherwise keep each other entertained with bad jokes and stories from earlier trips. The Italian contingent tends to dominate the press corps, though we Americans outnumber them for this trip.

President Bush was waiting at Andrews Air Force base when the Alitalia B777 touched down at 3:50 p.m., about 10 minutes ahead of schedule. The press corps exits from the back of the plane, and we watch as Benedict emerges from the front with a notably energetic two-armed wave to the crowd. The small crowd gathered bursts into cheers. I can see from a bit farther away what I'd first noticed when I was just a few feet away: Benedict, who turns 81 on Wednesday, has apparently gotten his share of the recent sunny weather in Rome. He's arrived for his first papal visit to America with a healthy spring tan.

As I watched the two world leaders shake hands on the tarmac, my TV and radio colleagues were shouting above the roar of the plane's idling engine, which reminded me of my lunch conversation the day before. Back in Rome, after getting my tickets, I'd met an American television reporter to go over the program of events one last time. My colleague shook his head over a plate of lasagna. His bosses had called to see if he could be both on the papal plane and awaiting its arrival at Andrews Air Force Base. Even in the internet age, it is still the TV people who are expected to work miracles.