Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Euro Trip 2017: Day 11 - Where I Was Almost Late For My Own Death


I may have become too chill and complacent when I travel. On the morning of my flight to Frankfurt via Madrid from Barcelona, I woke up at around 7 a.m. intending to shower and get ready so I could make it in time to the airport as usual.

But Lorena and Carolina's cat had other plans. As soon as I woke up, she jumped up the bed and decided to take a nap on my lap. I couldn't get up because she looked so peaceful and contented. When she finally stretched and lazily walked away, I was running late. I did my thing, woke Pedi up and he walked me to the metro station to see me off.


It was this pussy's fault

It was when I was inside the train heading to the airport via a connecting station that I checked my ticket on my phone and realized I made a terrible miscalculation: my flight wasn't at 12:50 p.m. as I thought all along, but at 12:05 p.m. That meant the 45-minute buffer I thought I had was gone and there was a very real chance that I was going to miss my flight. The thought almost made me sick. (I had only missed a flight once before and I did not want to relive the experience).

There was nothing I could do though, short of jumping off the train and hopping on a cab, which I never really considered because it was super expensive, and who knows what the traffic situation would be like in Barcelona on a Saturday morning. I could only pray and break out into a cold sweat as the train slowly made its way to El Prat's Terminal 1.

Based on my estimate, I could make my flight if nothing else happened and I just breezed through security.

Thankfully, the travel gods were finally listening and I got to my gate just as the line was inching its way towards the gate. Whew.


Was never more relieved to see my boarding gate

The first boarding gate out of Madrid

But my ordeal was far from over.

In Madrid, after a short waiting time for the connecting flight to Frankfurt, the plane eased out of the runway right on time. But soon after take-off, I felt something was amiss. The plane was making a strange noise, quite uncommon as far as I could tell, and it was a bit, er, "bumpier" than usual.

Minutes later, the captain made an announcement that there was some sort of mechanical issue and that we had to turn around and go back to Madrid. He said it in a nonchalant and matter-of-fact way, as if he was just saying something about the onboard meal. Maybe that helped ease my growing concern, which, up until that point was quickly escalating to mild panic.


Photo I took from the plane of a town on the outskirts of Madrid

I'm not ashamed to admit I had visions of myself and the entire plane just dropping from the sky in a blazing inferno and landing on the dusty field outside Madrid, all body parts and rubble. It would've been easier if we just turned around and landed immediately, but the pilot made a second announcement--we had to keep circling in order to "burn fuel." And if I know anything about plane travel, that's never a good sign.

The 40-minute circling was excruciating, not just because of the situation, but also because I was starting to feel dizzy and nauseated.

Boarding gate on the second flight out of Madrid

But we finally made it back, switched planes, flew a couple of hours and finally landed in Frankfurt without further incident. Thanks to German efficiency, I found out there was a shuttle service to my hotel. At around 10.pm., I called it a day and melted into the bed.

Dinner at the hotel

Well-deserved rest


Next: Cars and other things to see in Frankfurt

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