“My Trip To Santiago De Compostela”
Why is that in quotes, you may ask? Oh, that’s because my trip to Santiago de Compostela didn’t happen. In fact, this is the only evidence I have that I even left Granada:
Reed and rice cakes, Peter and pringles. Before everything went wrong...
Thursday night, I was feeling a little under the weather, but I pushed my feelings aside, went to the farmacia to get some tylenol and packed up for my trip. My friend Peter and I met up at the bus station just in time to catch the last bus to Malaga (we were flying from the Malaga airport). We had a lovely bus ride chatting and talking about the meaning of life. Upon arrival, we found our friends Joey and Reed and camped out in the airport for a couple of hours to wait to check in with Ryan Air. Our flight left at 6:30, so we could check-in at 4:30 a.m. I feel asleep in a booth in a cafe, and woke up to Peter telling me it was time to check in. Little did I know that it would be DOOM (how’s that for dramatic foreshadowing?).
Yes, so the Ryan Air employee told me that I couldn’t get on the plane because I didn’t have my passport. Even though I had my Spanish ID card (which you need a passport and a visa to acquire) and a photocopy of my passport (woman told me it didn’t count) and I wasn’t leaving the country. I guess it was too much logical reasoning to override their very strict policy, so I was 1.5 hours away from home and out of luck. There may have been tears shed. I said goodbye to my friends and waited for three hours until I could get the next bus back to Granada. On the bright side, (which is actually more like…partly-cloudy) I was very very sick with the flu for the next 4 days, and I would much prefer to endure the woes of illness in my own bed than in a hostel.
Best weekend EVER!
New Continent, New Stories 