Checking in and going through customs was quick and hassle-free. I spent the majority of the next hour perusing bookshops and newsstands for the perfect smutty reading: the latest issue of Cosmo and a steamy beach read called Tan Lines. For all my flights this break I flew KLM airlines, which was great. There was plenty of elbow space, friendly employees, no turbulence, and refreshments and snacks on even short, 45 minute flights.
As I sat reading on the plane, waiting to take off, the stewardess began giving safety instructions. I looked up for a second and then thought, "Oh I don't need to listen to this... I'm not flying over water." Er, hang about... England is an island you idiot, of course you're flying over water- big, BIG water. Oh god, I am not smart enough to be traveling alone! Let's call that incident brain fart number 1 (BF1 for short.)
Sad to admit, BF2 came not long after. The plane landed at my layover in Amsterdam and as I reached up to grab my bag from the overhead compartment, panic set in. Where the hell is Amsterdam? What country am I in? What language do they speak? I got my answers from the terminal gift shop. Amsterdam is in Holland, home of the Dutch, and I definitely need to work on my geography skills before graduation.
OK, I'm traveling alone and I have a two hour layover... time for lunch. I sat down, ate, and read my book. Ten minutes before I needed to get to my gate, I started walking over when BF3 hit me: I had to go through customs. I had ten minutes to go through customs, pass security, and get to my terminal and if I missed my flight I'd be stranded in a country where I don't speak the language or know a single person. A new wave of panic washed over me. After a few minutes of begging, I got to cut the line and ran to the gate, only to find they were having delays and I had an extra 20 minutes. Finally though, I was on my way to Spain.
I arrived in Spain around 7 p.m. and followed the directions I'd been given to meet up with my friends. I took the Aerobus to the center of the city without a problem and checked with some apparently British tourists before getting off at my stop. I texted my roommate to ask what next, and she told me the address to take a taxi to. I moved to the row of taxi's and tried my best to read the street names. When he looked at me like someone who only speaks Spanish looks at someone who only speaks English and some French, I showed him the address on my phone. He got up and started waving his arms, pointing down the street.
"Is it just up there?" I pathetically asked in English. "Mutter mutter wave wave point point yell," he responded. "Uhh, okay I guess it must be close by, but I still want to take a taxi," I tried. Fail. He got in his cab and left me. BF4. I moved on to the next cab, only to get the same response. BF5. Time to call for help. I dialed my roommate but my phone started speaking in Spanish, saying I have no clue what. BF6. Frantically I texted her for help and luckily she called me with her Spanish speaking friend, who was kind enough to tell the cab driver where to take me and explain that, even though the destination wasn't far and may be a "waste of his time," I really wanted a cab. He agreed to let me in, and I muttered my best "Gracia!"
About three minutes later I was exactly where I needed to be. My friends met me outside, and before I even went to the bathroom I had an ice cold beverage in my hands. Despite all my stupidity, fall break was here and so far, Spain was pretty good.
