Barcelona leg of hell

Wednesday June 29, 2011                                          Day 364

We had a wakeup call set for 7:00, and Roger also set the alarm, so we woke on time, and then we entered the Barcelona leg of hell. We dressed, assembled our luggage, and were out of the hotel and in a taxi before 7:30. We arrived at the train station and wrestled our luggage in. I left Roger guarding it while I went and checked out the airport train. I found the information and got in line for tickets. When I got to the front, the cost was six Euros, and I had only five. I offered my credit card, but the clerk needed to see ID to use it. Roger handles our passports and I have not carried my Louisiana driver’s license here in Europe, so I had nothing. I left the line and got money from Roger and we headed down to Platform 9. Both the elevator and the escalator were broken, so we had to handle our luggage downstairs. I took two items down, blocking the entire escalator in the process. Then I took the escalator back up and grabbed two more pieces of luggage which Roger left at the top when he saw me coming up. Again, I blocked the entire escalator until halfway down, when a lovely young gentleman came along, grabbed the larger of the two suitcases and carried it down for me. I thanked him profusely and began to orient us. The next airport train was slotted for 8:09 – later than we wanted to be, but it was what it was. Several minutes later I checked the schedule again, and there was a sign about a train being out of service. Then the full schedule popped up again and the next airport train was slotted for 8:19. AAGGGGGHHHHHHH! It was hot waiting for the train – when we got on it, a readout indicated that it was 29 degrees, or 85 degrees F. I had sweat dripping from my brow, and we were both sweating on our chests and backs. Further, the trains were very noicy, making the wait miserable. The train finally arrived and we got to the airport stop at about 8:30 for our 10:00 a.m departure. While on the train, Roger remarked that he hoped there were luggage carts available immediately. No such luck. Instead we had to hop a shuttle bus for the last 4 kilometres to the terminal. I went to the back door of the shuttle to enter because there was more room, but Roger got into the front of the shuttle. I kept looking for him, and he finally called from inside the shuttle that he was already on. I wrestled my three pieces of luggage on, then clambered aboard. As I turned let go of the bag that held our computers, it toppled out of the shuttle. Angry, I got off and hauled it back on, and thus began my first meltdown of the day. Back on the shuttle, I shouted at the luggage and kicked the two other bags – I figured that the red bag with our computers had had enough abuse already. Then I called out “sorry, pardon, desolé” to everyone on the bus and sat down to cry/ My anxiety level was high because I was tired and frustrated and fearful that we would miss our transatlantic flight. I was also thirsty, but I left our water bottle in the hotel, knowing we could not take it through security. Further, it was already 26 degrees (80 degrees F.) in Barcelona at 8:00 a.m., and it had been even hotter in the subway terminal. Sweat was dripping off my brow as we waited for the train, and we were both sweating down our chests and backs. Later I realized that I was also hungry, as we had planned to breakfast in the airport, and never had time for that.

We arrived at the terminal and found the Delta Atlanta line almost empty, thankfully. One of our bags was overweight and we had to play musical-belongings. We were also informed that we had too many carry-ons, and we would have to check one (at a cost of 70€). We got the luggage issue straightened out and were directed to a *vacant agent for check-in. One of the first questions she asked us was why we were late with our check-in. She accepted the subway train breakdown as an excuse; actually, it was a combination of so many things – fatigue, lack of familiarity with the process for getting the train to the airport, lots of luggage, and the subway issue being among the top ones. She checked us through and gave us our boarding passes for Atlanta, but instructed us to get our boarding passes for Barcelona at the gate. Then it was on to security, where I had my next meltdown. At security in Barcelona, you put all your belongings in those trays, then you have to carry the trays around a partition and load them into the machine – there is no mechanism for just pushing them all the way from the table to the machine. While I was loading the first of our six or so tray, a woman came and stood behind me, in front of Roger. I looked at her and snapped “Are you going to Atlanta? Because if you are not, you had better not think of getting in our way!” and I stepped around her to grab another tray. When I turned back again for another tray, she was gone, but I was so angry at this point that I was starting to shout at her and at the world in general. The security agent at the scanner suggested that I had better calm down, and I broke into tears. I am not totally stupid, however. I did calm down, and I apologized to him as I came through. Our belongings came through without a problem, but Roger forgot to take off his hat, which is full of hat pins, so he had to go through additional security measures; fortunately there was no strip search. Next was customs, where we lucked out – a customs official opened a new line just as we were approaching and we were first in his line. That took only a moment and we were on our way to the gate.

There were plenty of people still standing around at the gate. Roger offered to go get some water, as I had complained for a second time of being thirsty, while I took the passports and got our boarding passes. When I got to the desk, there were only two boarding passes on the desk – with our names on them! Alleluia! Roger was nowhere in sight but I got in line for boarding. I stepped aside once, waiting on him, but he finally showed up, carrying not only water but a muffin!! Bless his heart!! He really takes care of me – and this time he was a real lifesaver! This was when I finally realized I was hungry. My hands were full, so he fed me pieces of muffin all the way down the escalator.

Our seats were not together – we had known they would not be. When we discovered that mine was an aisle seat and his was not, we swapped – his long legs really suffer from being unable to stretch out in a center seat. Finally, I was able to relax. I settled into my seat and began to talk with a seatmate. I hadn’t been sitting there long when Roger came to my rescue again, bringing me the rest of the muffin.

Once the flight was underway, I settled in to sleep. I don’t know how long I had been sleeping when I felt someone tapping my hand. I opened my eyes to see Roger handing me something, which turned out to be my vitamin and my two glucosamine tablets. The former was a little worse for the wear, and he told me later that he gave me the better of the two. He had placed them in his shirt pocket for distribution to us later in the day, and they had gotten wet from sweat. I had shucked my sweater and my jacket in the subway, and both had ended up in the backpack, which Roger had back at his seat. This left me in a sleeveless sweater, so I asked him for the jacket and sweater, and he brought them both. Thus warmed, I fell asleep until lunch was served. I had two glasses of wine with lunch, which mellowed me considerably, and I slept again after lunch until my watch read about 2:00 p.m. Considerably refreshed and rested, and in a MUCH better mood, I opened my computer and began to blog. Roger came by later and remarked that I was finally awake – I don’t know how many times he came to check on me.

To add insult to injury, in the Atlanta airport, after we finished our processing and left Concourse E to go to Concourse B for our flight to Dallas, we hopped aboard the shuttle in the lower level of the terminal to take us there. It went to Concourse D, then broke down and refused to move. What is it with us and trains these days???