I need to finish detailing the rest of my God-awful, horrendous, heinous, unbelievable trip back to Madrid. Needless to say, it did NOT get better. It actually got worse, surprisingly. I went through the airport to get my Smashburger (it was a pretty magnificent burger and they had these special Smashfries that had rosemary and basil....mmmm. Herbs on carbs. Fancy carbs! That practically makes them veggies...) I noticed, before I sat down with my food, that the United customer service desk looked as deserted as the old west so I decided to scramble over there and ask my questions about the boarding pass to Madrid that I lacked and double check about my luggage. The black man from the night before was there so I said hi, and introduced myself as "the girl who held up the desk last night that was ugly crying but I'm better today!" and he said he didn't remember. I told him he was occupied with the bat-crap crazy Chuck Norris look-alike and we bonded over agreeing that that dude needed to take a chill pill...or maybe just a good laxative. He double checked my flights and reprinted my Rome boarding pass but couldn't give me the Madrid pass (I had to do that at the Italian airline desk in Rome). He double checked my luggage and said that it was all good to go through to Rome and then Madrid with me. If I missed my flight to Madrid (because of only having an hour layover) then there was another flight three hours later with over ten seats. I felt more comfortable and less stressed, so I was able to peacefully eat my Smashburger (last supper, practically). I made a friend with an Italian woman in line waiting to board and an older couple of ladies from the Indianapolis flight recognized me in line and came over to make sure I had gotten through the night okay. They also found a nice flight person in United who at first gave them pillows and a blanket to sleep in the airport but eventually came through and got them hotel vouchers. I'm glad, they were going to Rome on vacation with a tour group that had already left them. They were able to arrange to be picked up and taken to the group once they got there but they would miss all of Rome...all due to the ass-hats in Newark. If that had been me I would have insisted vehemently that the inept customer service rep. in Indy who lied to me take me to Rome himself and let me ride his back while he ponied me all over the city, showing me the ruins and feeding me grapes and pasta. I don't want to ill wish him but I would be lying if I said I haven't imagined him getting swallowed up into a sink hole. A couple of times. Like if the sink hole opened, he fell in, survived, and right when he stood up a sink hole opened up IN THE PREVIOUS SINK HOLE and sucked him down even further. Sink hole Inception. Ass.
Anyways. The flight to Rome was nice. I sat next to a 40-something year old couple...the husband a surgeon, and the wife a bit of a wino who got much friendlier and chattier the more she tiny airplane bottles of wine she bought. It was fun. To be honest the flight and airplane itself was the nicest that I have ever experienced. Tiny TV's with wonderful movies, comfy seats with lots of leg room...I was pleased. I deserved it. I also smuggled a baby cupcake on the flight for after our "dinner" and it was good. In Rome I was a little bit pushier and aggressive than I like to be in order to get on the first flight to Madrid. I adored the people watching and gorgeous Italian men I experienced going through security and all that jazz and I fought my initial impulse to drop everything and become a gypsy in Rome. I got my new boarding pass and made the flight on time! Things were going well. Finally. Except that the flight to Madrid had tiny TV's but they only offered the shows in Italian.....and there was a really hot flight attendant named Fabio (ironically) but he only spoke Italian...and nobody around understood me because they only spoke Italian. I didn't need anything to drink, luckily, because I had brought water on the flight but then the man next to me ordered some sort of bright red liquid that looked like Hawaiian punch...and it looked so good, I could tell from the carton it was a type of juice. I tried to ask Fabio for the juice in a mix of English and Spanish...and he said something back in Italian and I pointed to the guy next to me and his cup but apparently my Spanglish and charades aren't very good because all he gave me was a little package with a wet napkin. Apparently the word "juice" is similar to "wet napkin" in Italian.
I got to Madrid. I waited at the baggage claim for about 30 minutes until all of the bags were taken off the belt and realized that not only was my bag not there (not surprised) and I didn't know what the hell to do in the situation of lost luggage...I was also surrounded by six Italians who had also not received their bags but did not speak Spanish or English. They were all yelling amongst each other about what they were going to do and theories of where they could be or why they were lost...and I just kinda followed them around like an abandoned puppy, struggling to maintain calm and figure out what the hell they were saying. I think I understood every five words. But none of it helped me communicate. I was so lost. I literally followed them around, keeping within a foot of the group, until they got to a service desk. None of them seemed to notice the American chick that was stalking them and their every move...
At the desk I waited behind the Italians for about an hour, still dazed and confused. And I wanted pizza after listening to them for so long. When it was my turn I was thrown directly into my piss-poor Spanish, at this point, and I explained that my bag was lost. Somewhere between Newark and Rome. Although possibly still in Indy where I should have been, if I had listened to all of the signs the universe was sending me. The girl told me when they found it and located it they would send it to my house (good news since the airport is in BFE). I was leaving the baggage claim, walking kind of slow and defeated (thankful though that my keys and undies were in my carry-on) when I noticed a random belt with a couple of bags rotating without purpose. I looked closer at the bags and I swear to blog my bag was FLOATING ON THAT DAMNED BELT that had NOTHING to do with our baggage claim!! I grabbed it quickly and thanked God for the kismet fate that I thought I deserved. Then some mousy luggage nazi who looked like he had been a little too friendly with some crystal meth came running over and told me I couldn't take my bag. I showed him the suitcase had two baggage tags and it matched my passport...and I could tell him everything in the bag. He said I had to go reclaim it through the service desk. I had to reclaim my own luggage. I refused to wait another hour so I popped back to the window with the same girl (not proud of cutting in line) and asked her to cancel my claim because it appeared. Literally just appeared. She said she thought it must have just gotten in on a different flight from Newark. Apparently my bag had a more direct flight than I did.
To make matters worse after I got to the metro with all of my luggage, my Spanish debit card didn't work in the machine (for God knows what reason) and I barely had enough euros to make it home. I think I had about 52 cents extra by the time my journeys were complete. And then I slept for 4 consecutive days. My card situation has been mostly solved for now (it decided to work all of a sudden) and I'm enjoying my week off until I start work at school next Monday. I have been having nightmares of being trapped in an airplane recently and wake up shouting for my mom (which only really affects Paco and all the other tennants in the building who have a window facing the courtyard) but other than that I think I'll make a full recovery before travelling at Christmas. I think I'm gonna talk to some doctors before I come home at Christmas and see if I can get some Xanax beforehand. I might need it. But for now I'm in Madrid. Thank the baby Jesus! And thanks to all of you beloved friends and stalkers who kept up with my mishaps and sent me prayers and good vibes. You're the reason I got to watch The First Wives Club on the plane :)
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