The Fight To Get To The Airport, or: The Amazing Race

I honestly believe that whenever I travel somewhere, it essentially has to turn into an episode of The Amazing Race. Like running through an Osaka train station during rush hour and getting in the way of the crazy mob of Japanese business men as they also run around to get to their train.

No, it's nuts. No traveling for my life can ever be easy, and here's why.

The morning began at roughly 3:00 at the hotel, to be at the airport by 4:30. The six minute drive between the hotel and the air port was about the easiest part of the entire journey.

Well, you see, we have two separate flights. One to Madrid via Chicago, and another from Madrid to Sevilla, with only an hour in between these two flights. You see where this is going already, don't you?

We arrive in Chicago just fine, where we sit about for about three hours and I spend $5.40 on 4 pieces of fruit because, uh, airport fruit is made from gold.

Now we board for our 8 hour flight to Spain, and of course, we're an hour late. See how this works? This, my friends, is why you always leave several hours in between your flights, so that this very thing does not happen.

On top of this, Carol (one of the two girls with whom I'm traveling) sent her luggage straight to Sevilla, so who even knows where her stuff is going.

I'm stuck right in front of the tiny child who is absolutely SCREAMING for his mother, even though she's sitting right next to him. This led me to believe that the poor child was kidnapped, but due to the intensity of the headache he ended up giving me for several hours, I figured he deserved it and thus did not alert the proper authorities. Meanwhile, all the suave Spanish people are milling about the plane, standing around and chatting. Yeah, like, standing around the plane for hours, just chatting. No one's telling them to remain seated, so they just stand about and chat in Spanish. All the while my poor stomach is in knots because we've missed our flight and god knows where my luggage (aka my entire life in two suitcases) is going to end up.

Fantastico.

Now, the funny thing about traveling to Europe in the early morning is that you get about 8 hours of day light before the sun goes down, and then as you fly into Europe the sun comes back up. Mix this with leaving at 4:30 in the morning, and arriving in Madrid at 11:30 in the evening our time with about 2 hours of sleep on the plan is really helpful when you now have to wander around a foreign country in search of a new flight to your destination.

So we start asking around. And, as most customer service in the States work, they send us to another person, who sends us to another, who sends to a fourth, a fifth, a 23rd, and so on. Thankfully, they became progressively nicer, at first saying we'd have to pay for a new flight, and then finally putting us on Stand By and checking all our luggage for free.

Another 4 hours to kill in the Madrid airport. We end up passing out on benches, and I finally, for once, felt like I was having a Europe moment.

Several hours later we're in a very long Stand By line waiting behind some woman who's screaming at the customer service rep in Russian about (I think) how she needs to get home for her daughter's wedding. There's a family from the UK behind us who's patiently waiting, and the more I stand there, the more I feel the urge to join the crazy Russian lady in her screaming.

I shove Carol up to the front of the desk, cutting in front of several people because our plane is boarding NOW, and she asks a few quick questions and finally we receive our tickets.

Here's where the Amazing Race bit comes in. We are at gate 27. Our plane, boarding now, is leaving in a few minutes from gate 98.

So imagine, if you will, a long stretch of air port, and three American 20 year olds running through, pushing over little old ladies, because I refuse to spend the night in an airport. Refuse. Not interested. I can't even remember the last time I went to the gym. I'm sweating profusely, my calves are burning, I'm dragging two heavy pieces of carry on luggage and a roll along and all I know is that the person sitting next to me on the plane is going to have to deal with the fact that I haven't applied deoderant in 24 hours.

Sorry buddy.

Thankfully! At Last! We board our plane, reach Sevilla, get our luggage, take a taxi to the hotel, and pass out.

Por fin, we've made it to España.

The story gets better. Ever heard of Murphy's Law? Just you wait.