Trials, Tribulations, Triumphs

Friday

And now, for a story...

It was my last day in Europe, for a while, not ever, and I was sad about it but glad to be getting home just so I could sleep for a day. Friday itself started off well enough. I planned out everything approximately the night before and had an idea of what was going to happen. Little did I know, either God or the Devil had other plans for me. I left the ship and got on the airport transfer provided by Carnival by 8:30AM. When that started taking a while due to the bus needing to be full was when I started to worry.

My flight was for 10:45AM. 

9AM: we still hadn't left the port because the shuttle wasn't full, even if the airport was only 20-25 minutes away.

9:07AM: the shuttle was finally full and we left. I was fretting but still thought I'd make it. 

9:45AM: the shuttle arrived at the airport and we were told most of the international airlines were located here even though there was a second terminal, so I got off. I was very concerned but still hopeful. I would just need to be quick about it and run (ha!). 

9:50AM: I am fast-walking up, down and all around the entirety of Terminal, my massive suitcase and carry-on both in hand, and do not see my airline, Aer Lingus, anywhere. That was when I started legitimately freaking out. What if I booked my flight out of the wrong airport? Did Barcelona even have another international airport? How could I make such an idiotic mistake? 

10AM: I asked a security guard if he knew where Aer Lingus was and he immediately directed me to the overly packed looking information desk. After walking all around it, I realized there were actually just a lot of people standing around it but not actually standing in line. I asked the airport service rep and she broke the news. I was in the wrong terminal. Aer Lingus was, in fact, in Terminal 2. 

10:10AM: I am all but running through the massive Terminal 1, unable to find the shuttle to take me to Terminal 2. I thought I found it, was informed it was somewhere else, and lost it, all before I finally found it and got on. I was actively avoiding looking at the clock by this point. 

10:18AM: I arrive at Terminal 2 finally. I proceeded to walk up, down and all around the entirety of Terminal 2 before I finally found the Aer Lingus check-in desk. Too bad there was no one standing at the desk to check people in. Not a soul. Some airport folks were at the next desk for a neighboring airline so I kindly asked them what to do about checking in with mine. The lady there told me it was closed and my heart dropped a little.

Being the problem solver I am, I didn't even focus on the fact I had just been informed I'd missed the first of my two flights bringing me back stateside and zeroed in on how to fix my newly acquired flight dilemma, ASAP. The lady told me to find the Swissport desk. What the heck is a Swissport? Another 5 minutes and I found the information desk, who in turn directed me to the location of the Swissport desk. Too bad when I finally made it there, it was closed. (I'm also still not 100% sure what a Swissport is). There was a sign up and everything. The woman who happened to be standing behind the sign messing with some papers, told me to come back in 10 minutes. Less than 10 minutes later, I walked up to the window which was now populated, sign moved aside, and said I'd missed my flight and needed another one as soon as possible. I had a connection to make for pete's sake! The first best part of the story was being told I'd missed my flight and subsequent reaction or lack thereof. This is the second best part of the story. There are three in total. The representative kindly tells me they have no flights to Dublin until TOMORROW NIGHT because they'd overbooked everything already. Tomorrow night at that time meant Saturday night. As in I would be literally stuck in Barcelona with no planned accommodations, spur of the moment, unable to speak the language, with my international phone plan running out that same night, for TWO DAYS. I felt the beginnings of fury but they went nowhere, I was just too tired. I asked her again and I think the look on my face said what my voice couldn't. She gave me the number to Aer Lingus's customer service and told me I could find out if they had anything else or I could book a direct flight with another airline entirely. In effort to be cost-effective while handling one of the biggest kerfuffles of my entire life, I decided to call customer service instead of just shelling out for another flight like I have that kind of money. Blessings to the man who answered that phone. He got me a flight from Barcelona at 10:50PM for Friday night with a connection in Dublin for New York. I'd be back by 10:15AM Sabbath morning and it would only cost me an extra 150€. How kind, I thought, as I confirmed that if I bought another flight with another airline entirely and tried for a refund, Aer Lingus would not be giving me a single red cent, then gave him my Visa card number and email for confirmation. 

Only once that was done and I was off the phone did what had just taken place truly settle with my soul. 

I had missed my flight. 

I had missed my flight. 

I'd never missed a flight before in my life and I've been flying at least once a year pretty much since I was born (August 18, 24 years ago, don't forget that date, it's coming up soon). How could I be so silly as to imagine that just because I made every other flight with no problems, this would be no different. I chocked it up to overconfidence. Because oh boy had I been wrong and oh boy was it different.

Some other members of our cruise party had made previous plans to stay on in Barcelona for a couple days in order to actually enjoy the city. One of them happened to be a close friend of mine. I called him, almost started crying as I told him the short story of what had happened. He gave me the address to the hotel they were staying in so I could hop in a cab and join them for the day. Things were starting to turn around.

I met up with them and we headed off into the great city of Barcelona. This was actually turning it to be a blessing in disguise because if I had made my original flight, I wouldn't have seen any more of Barcelona than the airport. As we started walking around we saw a Zara and you know I was all over it in a heartbeat. What was so interesting was that when everyone says Zara in Europe is way different from the States, they're actually both right and wrong. They're right in that it looks like an H&M when you go in as far as clothing quality, style, and colors but if you walk back further, you uncover some of the Zara you expect so that's where they're sort of wrong. Overall, it was weird and I didn't buy anything but I did see a shirt I've been eyeing for about a month. The next time I see it I'll probably buy it and stop playing cat and mouse.

Side street vibes

Cute streets, very New York-esque actually

This is the third best part of the story. We walked around some more down smaller streets and saw quite a few cute shops and stopped into some of them. At one store, I found these 100% cotton tote bags each with different prints on the front inspired by the face of a building in Barcelona itself. So of course I bought one. When I went for my euros, they weren't there but I wasn't terribly concerned because I was carrying around a massive bag. However, after the purchase I looked and still couldn't find the little coin purse I'd bought in Rhodes, Greece with my euros in it. After 15 minutes later, I'd notified everyone I was with about my being robbed, I'd gone back to the 3 places I'd been in, retracing my steps, to see and ask if it was anywhere else. Then I knew, I had been stolen from in that little store. I had the purse all the way up until that point. Once I knew for sure that's what had happened I was all the way over the day. I only had cards and USD on me, the rest of my euros were in my suitcase back at their hotel and I was not about to dig through all my stuff to find them anyway let alone go all the way back there to get them. Friends are great in that they'll try to cheer you up but after missing my flight AND getting a slightly substantial amount of money plucked from my very bag, I just wanted to go to bed, cry, and then sleep. However, the show must go on.

I tried not to be a buzzkill especially because it just seemed I was having problem after horrific problem that day but the struggle was incredibly real. We went on to a church one of the lady's in our party wanted to visit called Sagrada Familia. What happened before we got there just got the rest of the group on edge.

This is what that touristy photo of the train looks like. I had to...

We got on the public transportation system after getting directions from a helpful tour guide. While on their metro, one of the guys in my party had his passport taken out of his pocket from the pickpockets standing all around us. The pickpocket took his passport and the only way my friend knew about it was because the pickpocket handed it back to him. Literally, like he dropped it, except everyone knew he didn't. That was enough to get all of us on edge and holding our belongings closer to us and making everyone generally more anxious as well as tired. Once we got to the church, personal items in tact, I have to admit, I was quite impressed even though the Gothic building was under renovation.

Gothic realness

SECURITY

 After that we had one more stop at another beautiful building and museum, the Casa Batllo. I was not in a spending mood so another girl in our group who didn't want to go and I went to McDonald's (it was Spain and it was once and I won't ever do it again because I still just really don't like that place) and Burberry while the other 3 people we were with went in. The Mickey D's was only okay. I don't eat there in the US so I don't have much of a base but the fries tasted exactly the same to both me and the friend I was there with.

Casa Batllo is on the right, the neighboring building was just pretty so I got a photo with both

Our sightseeing tour ended there and we went back to the hotel to relax a bit before they had dinner and I scurried back to the airport with at least 2 hours to spare. At least this time I knew exactly where I needed to go. It was funny because all of us were walking around the room and talking and dozing and sniffling like it m was flu season due to being in and out of 80-90 degree weather and highly air conditioned rooms for the last 2 weeks. Carnival keeps those rooms icy which is good but they were a little too icy. Almost every morning I woke up with aching sinuses. They'd usually clear up by the time I was having breakfast but I mean good gracious.

I got to the airport Friday evening at 8:45PM for my 10:50PM flight and of course, flew through check-in and customs and security too. I'm going to just accept the fact that I fly through the actual process but getting to the airport early will always always be necessary, ESPECIALLY for international flights. Cool note: Barcelona International Airport's security does not make you take off your shoes. I loved that. I bought some food for my second actual meal of the day then went to my gate and waited to board.

I arrived in Dublin at 12:15AM Saturday morning and began my all night vigil because my connection wasn't until 7:50AM. Yes, that long. Have you ever had to wait overnight in an airport for your connection and because the airport actually does close down partly, they give you back your suitcase? Have you ever been kicked out of baggage claim because they need to clean (which had already taken place while I was sitting there, the lady cleaning had no problems at all going around me) and told to go elsewhere? I went out the cafe area and saw there were a lot of other people like me and half of them were laid out in chairs and booths asleep. I can hardly sleep on planes, I cannot sleep in completely public places like an airport especially if I'm by myself. Luckily my darling best friend stayed on the phone with me for 2.5 hours until I was able to go recheck my bag. It was a long night but I made it. Checked my bag and the rep told me my bag was 50€ overweight. My bag weighed 52 pounds when I left and 62 pounds when I came back. I honestly didn't think I bought 10 pounds worth of stuff but there are new shoes, a skirt, a longline bomber and other stuff in there so I guess I did?... She asked me what airline I flew with previously and upon learning it had all been with the same company and they hadn't charged me in Barcelona so she let me slide. I could have kissed her.

A couple hours and an intense US customs experience later, I boarded my last flight to finally take me back to New York. My seat had been moved which was fine with me because I never picked it in the first place and I ended up sitting on the exit aisle in a window seat. I truly and sincerely hoped an emergency would not take place to add to this dramatic last day of my vacation. I slept on and off the entire 6 hour and 45 minute flight thanks to a Claritin D and my body being up for a continuous 24 hours. The sleep was fitful but it still felt so good. In my waking moments, I stared at this screen:

Screens flip up when you sit in emergency exit seats

V important information

And this view:

Cotton balls!

For basically the entire flight. I was always half asleep when the food came around or when trying to open my TV monitor and the lady next to me had to help me like I was 5, I felt so bad. You know another thing that sucks about planes? They feed you so often and I am really just not about that life. When they handed me breakfast I wasn't ready. Later they gave sour cream and onion pretzels (ew!). An hour and a half later they came around with sandwiches (chicken or cheese) and I was like you need to chill I just need coffee please. I haven't had coffee since Friday morning on the ship but it was literally awful so does that count? We got Starbucks in Spain too (another attempt to cheer me up after I was stolen from) so okay it hasn't been as long as I imagined but I feels like I haven't had actual coffee for a week. In short, my experience of Barcelona was a mix of classy and trashy, breezy and skeezy. I'm not 100% sure if I'll ever go back on purpose.

Finally touched down in New York and I was happier than I expected to be in a country where I could read the signs. Immediately I went about the task of finding my suitcase and finding an Uber before a yellow cab drove up and Uber was no longer on my radar. 40 minutes later, I walked into my apartment and proceeded to sleep on and off for the rest of the day. I was finally home.

xx