6 hours ago
Thursday, January 30, 2014
The last two days of my life have been absolutely terrifying. I'll get right to it. I left for Madrid at 10pm on Tuesday and I was a lot less nervous than I thought I would be since this was my FIRST time traveling alone. First issue I had, very minor, was an overweight suitcase. I figured this would happen so it didn't rattle me. I had to leave behind a dress, a pair of jeans, a bottle of nail polish remover, a perfume and a conditioner. *insert sad face* Aside from that, things SEEMED to be fine. I got to my gate and purchased a spinach/broccoli pizza slice and an iced coffee from Starbucks. I was cool and calm. My plane comes and I ended up having a whole row of seats to myself...once again, cool and calm. Things started to get weird when I heard the stewardess say that the flight was 4 hours...it does not take 4 hours to get from Boston to Lisbon, Portugal (I had a connecting flight) but I brushed it off. 4 hours later, we land in an airport that I thought was Lisbon...I found someone who worked there and I asked him if I needed to do anything with my boarding pass and he told me that I have to do that in Lisbon...mind you, I think I'm in Lisbon and now I'm being told I have to go to Lisbon. I almost lost my shit. I thought I got on the wrong flight! The guy sees that I'm clearly about to pass out and he explains that I'm in the Azores not Lisbon because this flight actually has 2 stops, not 1. NOBODY TOLD ME THAT. MY ITINERARY DID NOT EVEN SAY THAT. So anyways, I had to wait another 2 hours until my next flight to Lisbon (and of course my carry on and giant handbag were heavy as fuck, my mistake.) Also, the food on the flights was vile but wine was free. I get to Lisbon, Portugal and start looking for the area where I get my connecting boarding pass...I get sent throughout the ENTIRE airport. I had to get screened about 3 times because I kept ending up in the wrong areas. I finally find the transfer desk and the woman tells me where to go. As I happily skip to the next desk on my list, I look on the big screen to double check the time for my long awaited flight to Madrid...I look up...and I see this word: CANCELADO. The second I saw that word, I forgot English, Spanish, Italian, Kreyol and French. My brain could not understand what the fuck that meant. When it finally registered, my heart dropped, I started sweating, my eyes began to water and I almost collapsed. I rushed to the Air Europa (fuckboy airline) desk and asked about the 3:50 pm flight to Madrid (it was 11:30 am in Portugual). She calmly said, "It's cancelled." like she had not one care in the world while I'm standing there covered in fear based sweat. Then she tells me that the next flight to Madrid is at 7 pm...I was going to spend that entire time in a foreign airport that only allows you 30 minutes of free wifi. Cool. Will do. So I figured I would find the gate and cry there until 7 pm. I walked another 246531 miles to the gate and look for my new flight on the big screen. This guy behind me tells me that the Madrid flight was not on there yet. He was next to me at the Air Eurfuckboy desk and he recognized me from the flight. Turns out he is from Dorchester. 35 years old (looked 25) half white/ half Spanish on a business trip to Madrid but he was also taking this opportunity to see some distant relatives in Spain. I swear, God put us together in that situation because if not...I would have spent that entire day trying to figure out how to kill myself. We talked about life, ate, laughed. It definitely made the situation more bearable and I truly applaud him for dealing with me that entire time LMAO if you know me well, then you know I'm the BIGGEST baby during stressful situations and I also don't think clearly. I guess he understood. Another mild mishap was finding out that the charger adapter my mother gave me was for the UK and would not work in Madrid. Awesome. I go to the Duty Free store and they have every single adapter you would ever need...EXCEPT the one Yani needs. Of course. Moving on (Yes, there is more) my new friend and I finally board our plane, we have both been up for way over 24 hours and are delirious. This plane was so tiny that my carry on, which fit on the other planes, did not fit so I had to take a bunch of stuff out and had to place them in my lap during the flight. Real comfy. My new friend was seated right in front of me but he knocked out before they even told us to put our seatbelts on. FINALLY, we arrive to Madrid and we head straight to baggage claim. During our 7 hour layover, we joked about Air Europa possibly losing our luggage...and guess what? Our fucking luggage was nowhere to be found. The woman behind the Air Eurfuckboy desk was like, "Nope, no here." Then she starts telling me how to FILE A CLAIM and I fucking lost it at that very moment. I did not want to file a fucking claim. I did not want reimbursement. I did not want another 24 hours of my life ruined by Air Europ-ass. I wanted my goddamn luggage and all I could do was burst into tears in the middle of Barajas airport in Madrid. Fast forward: I filed my claim, got picked up by my host family (they were very sweet and helpful)got a tour of their gigantic, modern house with automatic windows, charger adapters and heated floors while Isabel, the wife, made me tea then I slept until noon the next day. I met the housekeeper when I woke up. I was shocked to see that she is my age. She doesn't speak English at all but I understand Spanish when it's spoken slowly so conversation was choppy but effective. I also met the 3 little daughters and they are adorable! They even made me a welcome banner. Also, my luggage was delivered as I wrote this. I'm by myself now since the entire family went on a last minute ski trip. Tomorrow I'm going to explore Madrid. So all is well. For now...like my title says, nothing worth having is easy. Maybe the worst is over? I certainly hope so.