Some people say, when things get rough, that it can only go up from where you are. I don't know what type of encouragement they think they're giving me, because I clearly know they are wrong. For me, when things are bad, I am fully aware that they can get worse. I like to think that I have adopted a good attitude about it, seeing as I clearly can't do anything to avoid my luck, and have found many a creative way to improvise. Also, I like to think that karma has a good hand in it all, as I have had equally as amazing of experiences as I have horrific ones.
Before I left Seville, while remarking about my past six day delay journey from hell with my very soon after Ex, a friend of mine tried to reassure me by telling me that this was indeed the worst it could get. Travelling was going to seem like cake compared. They owe me a beer. I knew the moment I was in the train station at Sevilla Santa Justa, and I had forgotten my winter jacket and my glasses that I was going to need those improvisational skills that I had been honing over the last three years, little did I know that was only the beginning of it all.
I arrived to the United States purely on the kindness of good people, and a miracle. There was no other way to possibly pull off what I did when making my way into the USA without some phenomenon. I will spare you a super long work up of everything that happened and just give you the summary:
There was a problem with the train which they originally told me was the brakes. When the police showed up with their guns pulled, I was pretty sure that was a complete lie, but never the less we were stuck. After an emotional call to my mother saying I may not make it, the sympathy of the people on the train drove them to trap the conductor in my train car and coerce (bully) him into finding me a way to get to the airport. They got me a free taxi which got me to the airport with two minutes to spare. A lovely Irish family helped me into the queue and even got me some chocolate to make me feel better. In Ireland I spent the night and woke up next to a Spanish girl who asked me if I wanted breakfast. I wasn't expecting to wake up in the company of anyone, let alone a girl, but I went with it and I spent the day with her. I felt better speaking Spanish anyway, it felt more natural. When I finally got on a plane from Dublin to JFK, the plane was late. I was given only fourty-five minutes to pick up my luggage at Terminal 4, take the air-train to Terminal 5, check in, and go through security again. I only made it with the help of the German doctor who was so kind to me during the flight and made it possible for me to get ahead of the crowd, and speaking Spanish at security charmed them into letting me into the front. I was the last to board the flight with one minute to spare. I made it home.
Sadly, that was the summary. I couldn't leave out any more information than that and still give the entire story.
The vacation was better than I had expected. It was lovely to see my family again. I spent as many hours with my baby sister and my best friend as I could. It was great to see how their lives have grown and changed, and yet our relationships haven't changed at all. It was easy to go back to just how things were when I left almost two and a half years ago. I even got to see my brother, who lives in Boston.
Now see, this is where karma comes in and rewards me for the journey here...
I met someone. Well, we can't really say met. I saw someone.
You know those romantic films where a man and woman see each other from across whatever form of public transportation and/or area they are in, and then through a series of events dictated by fate find each other again? I lived that, in real life, and he hasn't filed a restraining order. yet.
Falling in love in train cars doesn't seem realistic, and I didn't think so while posting online that I couldn't stop staring at him and that I wished to find him again. This is where fate comes in: he wished to find me too. It only took a shocking three hours for us to be in contact. What started as a joke about my orange line lover, quickly turned into the reality of a craigslist lover. Who knew craigslist worked? I still don't fully believe it does, but I have been swayed a little.
Maybe it was the magnitude of good luck that brought me to meet him that forced the hand of karma to give me what I can only describe as the most horrific trip back to Spain I have ever had. I can't think of any other way that it was possible for things to suck as badly as they did. It was one of those trips where nothing seems to go right, and you just can't take any more. I can't even summarize fully the extent of how exhausted I was by day two.
Aerlingus sends me more mixed signals than all my ex-boyfriends combined. I hate when they send me messages that say things like 'We regret to inform you that your flight has been delayed', but they won't give you any more information than that, leaving you to wonder if you should go and wait it out an hour, or you have to re-book your tickets. I am pretty good at being blunt, and I don't think there was a lack of communication on the phone when I kindly explained that I had to take a flight from Portland to JFK, so I needed them to give me an idea of whether I should expect to go tonight, or if I should rebook for tomorrow. They wouldn't give me ANY information. I don't know why they continued to respond 'I don't know' when what I was asking them had little to do with knowing anything, but rather giving me an idea of what I may be able to expect. I took the flight to JFK anyway, and luckily, because the wait was only two and a half hours.
There was a lovely German girl who was going on the same flight I was on, JFK to Dublin. She asked me kindly to use an American phone to call someone to say goodbye, but I didn't have one. She looked like she needed company though, so I asked her if she'd like a bite to eat. We both had $10 dollar vouchers from Aerlingus to buy some food through the wait, though that doesn't go far in the airport. I will skip the details of what we ate, all you need to know is she ate the entire burger and plate of fries in record time and I was left in awe. I have never been so impressed, nor have I ever felt so inferior as I stared down at my half burger, unable to eat any more. She tried to console me by telling me that it was because she was German... What kind of excuse is that?!
She was lovely though, and we spent a few hours together waiting, and drinking.
When I arrived in Dublin, I had yet another seven or so hours to wait. This is where things went truly badly. I almost got kicked out of the airport. For drinking. In Ireland. Did you get that? Let me say it again. I got in trouble for drinking in Ireland. Don't sell it if I can't drink it. They made me out to seem like a drunkard in the middle of the airport. 'Miss, I am sorry you can't drink wine here'. Really? Since when was Ireland against public drunkary? Since when did I seem like a drunk??
They gave me a voucher for internet use in exchange for my wine bottle, which truly was only exchanging one 'addiction' for another. All I did was go online to complain about Ireland suddenly becoming chaste about public drinking.
Luckily, not all of Ireland shares the airport's sentiments. On the plane the lovely elderly woman next to me kept trying to feed me alcohol and cookies. For free. I accepted.
Anyway, I was lucky enough to find my way to a hotel for the night, where I was so exhausted by the journey that I immediately passed out in preparation for today.. It is currently day three of travelling, and as I write this I am still not in my house. Soon though. I will be soon.
Just don't travel with me if given the opportunity, it's the only advice I can give you if you want to maintain your friendship with me.
