Guess what, the twilight zone is actually located in the black hole of the Madrid airport. Maybe the Bermuda triangle is actually somehow possessed by this abysmal place of flight. Somehow, you can take a train to your gate (that was just a joke, they switch gate locations on you 10 minutes before boarding..for shits and giggles) and you can actually end up back outside security again minutes before your "alleged" flight--just to go through the whole thing again, all the while having no idea how it happened or how it was physically possible to pull off.
It was a nice trip down memory lane; I was like a little tour guide, tracking the tragic overnight experience in the Madrid airport, almost dream (nightmare) like from my Mono-psycho-delusional state. I got to see the spot where I slept indian style for 6 hours on a random bench by the J gates. We also revisited the McDonald's, which I had hit up right after a small cafe in October, and of course once again, I ordered a Big Mac baby. I was also reminded of how ridiculous international flights can be. Follow me on this one, Our flight from Sevilla to Madrid was delayed. The lady said we would have to take the 7:45 flight to Venice instead of the 4:20 flight. 3 hours in the Madrid airport after waiting 3 hours for our flight to Madrid? Excellent. Upon arrival in Madrid, our flight to Venezia was the next gate over and was not even close to boarding yet. Riddle me this--what was the lady at the Iberia desk smoking?
3 hours later, several information desk trips later, and a few serious discussions: the music to an old-school western showdown could be played as we stared at the Departures monitor, Venezia M25. We agreed to wait til 6:45 (flight boarding at 7:20) to make the train trip to the M gates (8 minutes away) which were unusual for international departures. Circa 7 pm, we decided it was legitimate and hurried to the train, made it to the M gates after being smooshed by strange smelling foreigners, hustled up the elevators just in time to pass the departure monitor that now said H17. It was out of the Dane Cook skit --and I started yelling, "UNBELIEVABLE!!! UNBELIEAVAAAAAAAABLE!"
Seconds later, after taking the train back to the H gates--- we went up the elevators and ended up somehow with baggage on our left and security on our right. I'm pretty sure we were teleported by angry travel gods of mischief, because it literally makes no sense how someone could be in the MRSU area and then be in security. Either way, I made a complete ass of myself by running through security like a crazed woman, muttering angry phrases in Spanish inbetween "UNBELIEVABLE, I already did this, UNBELIEVABLE!" It was utter farce. Buffoons. Buffoonery. And if you think I was overreacting, our flight was now departing in 10 minutes.
After getting back on the train, taking the elevator and running through the airport to finally make it to the gate. It was my second flight of the day to be wedged in the middle seat. For some reason, flights awaiting departure on Iberia are ungodly hot. So hot, people are sweating, fanning themselves with the information pamphlets and fiddling with the air nozzles above their seat. It's almost like they are expecting a miracle to happen and the air will actually come out--stop messing with it, nothing is ever going to come out. Do you really think, "oh hey, maybe i'll be the one person who twisted it enough every 2 minutes to actually discover a code of sorts to get air to come out of only MY nozzle."
The woman next to me was pseudo crying and resting her forehead against the very close seat infront of her. It was very awkward, she also took up most of my seat--I felt bad and honestly just plain violated as she would nod off, and then mid-sleep use my body as her pillow as she fell against me. I decidedly just tilted my legs to the other side and tried not to move. She was intermittently crying and snapping photos out the window (of pitch black darkness) Across the aisle, mid flight, an extremely paranoid Italian decided he needed to take his temperature. Moments later, looking concerned, he started yelling at a Steward to bring him water. He later pulled out a purse sized bag full of pills and the ridiculous liquid medicine that spaniards are so flipping found of. Before you are quick to assume he had a dramatic worthy illnesss, the moment the plane landed he left his sick antics behind and perked right up. By the way, the entire group of eccentric hypochondriac Italian business men smelled AWESOME, only to be bettered by the extreme heat situation. That was definitely the strangest thing i've seen on a flight. Oh wait, JUST KIDDING--The hippie sitting behind us started playing his flute which was then confiscated by the stewards and put above the seat. He was very dejected and couldn't understand why that wouldn't be allowed. I smirked to myself as I had visions of turning around, taking his flute, and knocking him on the head with it very matter of factly and just saying "No."
All traveling shenanigans aside, upon arrival into Venice--our checked bag finally came out (yes, yes, yes!!!!) and we had a driver waiting for us to take us to the hotel (complete with the last name written on the sign). I've never been happier to take a bubble bath, and to be sleeping in a california king bed. My twin bed in Posadas can shove it. We didn't sleep last night, We had a coma.
Today we just putzed around Venice, it's the most amazing place i've ever been. It's basically like living in a storybook. Instead of reading about the fantastical places, we're experiencing them. A cool thing about Venice is that the buses are actually boats. For a 72 hour water bus pass it was only 22 euros each. Waiting for a bus isn't bad when it's an open air boat that takes you along the amazing water ways of the Grand Canal. We ate dinner at a restaurant at the Rialto, that was right on the water, pinch me.
And of course, as you can imagine, after traveling with people hacking/coughing their guts out and taking their temperatures--we are both now sick. Luckily I was prepared with halls defense and the hotel gave us chamomile tea. We decided that gelato will make our sore throats feel better (I think we are now just looking for excuses to consume as much gelato as humanly possible) and i'm very happy to be off the Spanish Jenny Craig starvation diet, far far away from Jamon, and into the country of phenomenal food. Mmm mm good.
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