Our trip from Paris to Barcelona was another rational plan gone terribly, horribly wrong.
First, our flight was at 8 a.m., so we woke up at 5:30 a.m. Getting up that early is never fun. Especially when you go to bed at 1 a.m. And even more so when you have to drag your luggage across the metro. It’s so early you just want to cry because you have to be up and haul shit around already.
By the time we left the hotel it was 6 a.m. Not to mention that our the elevator wasn’t even working yet at that hour and our hotel was still on lockdown for the night. But our receptionist finally dragged his ass out of bed to let us out, and of course the elevator started working as soon as we finished stumbling down the stairs to reception.
Luckily, we got to the metro and a train came right away. And when we transferred to the RER train that would take us to the airport, that came right away too. Which was a good thing, because we definitely hadn’t allotted enough time to get to the airport.
By the time we got off the train, it was 7 a.m. Then we still had to trek our way to our terminal. Now it’s 7:15. We approach the easyJet counter and there is a ridiculously long line. (Insert expletive here). We go all the way to the back of the line and realize there’s no chance in hell we’re making our flight at this pace.
So I find one easyJet guy to see if he can help us, and he informs us that luggage check-in for our flight closes at 7:20 a.m. (so in five minutes). Of course he has no authority, but he recommends that we ask the easyJet lady directing line traffic if she can help us.
This lady was not very nice. She basically just sent me back to the end of the line. Clearly, she did not like me very much, even though I was being my usual, charming self. Well, the feeling was mutual!
As we moved up slowly in line, approaching bitchy line traffic lady, Daniela looks at the screen and it says the flight to Barcelona was expected at 9:40 a.m. So we got some renewed hope that maybe we would make our flight after all, and wouldn’t have to book another one.
We finally checked in our luggage and confirmed our flight was delayed. Thank God easyJet is as punctual as they are organized! But at check-in, the guy told me that I could literally only take one carry-on bag, so my little luggage and backpack wouldn’t fly (literally). “No problem,” I told him. “I can fit my backpack into my suitcase,” I added confidently.
Well, let me tell you, fitting all my shit into my already full luggage was not fun. I had to get a little creative and wear a few extra items (my new motto: if it doesn’t fit, wear it) and then sit on my suitcase to close it, PLUS carry a few things in my hand, but mission accomplished.
I won’t even get into details about the trauma of getting thoroughly felt up by the lady in security after the metal detector went off as I walked through.
Luckily, we got onto the plane early enough to sit together since it was free seating.
Then, of course I spent the remainder of the flight freaking out because of turbulence and my increasing fear of flying. Next flight, I’m popping a Vicodin to help me relax!
Anyways, we made it to Barcelona safe and sound, after a passionate political speech from the captain prior to take off about the necessity for Europe’s air traffic controllers to unite so we could avoid more delays during this busy traffic season.