Spring Breakers 2: Escape From Spain

So my roommate and I had a little adventure trying to get out of Spain after break. I'm going to preface this with the fact that I'm sure y'all have had way worse travel stories than this. This is a mild situation, like Travel War Story Level 3 on a scale of 1 to 10. But still. It was rough at the time.

The sun sets on our last day in Granada

I was somewhat shocked when, on our way into Spain, we descended directly from the plane onto the tarmac at the Madrid airport like some kind of rockstar or diplomat (although I doubt rockstars have to ride crowded buses to the terminal-I think they get limos). I was even more surprised when the Granada airport turned out to be a small building with four gates and minimal security. We could basically walk straight off the plan and cross the tarmac to our bus into town.

This was great coming in and less so leaving, because there were NO OFFICIAL LOOKING PEOPLE around to ask why our plane was mysteriously delayed for 45 minutes. I still don't know. It was like the staff turned up to scan boarding passes when it was time and then apparated back home until the next flight. Needless to say, the delay severely cut into our 55 minute layover at Madrid (booking a flight with only a 55 minute layover was mistake #1). When we touched down (again, straight onto the tarmac), we had about ten minutes to find our gate and catch our flight.

The risen sun was too bright in our losing eyes
 (10 points if you get the reference)

Now, this is the thing about the Madrid airport. I have a deep seated dislike for it based on both my incoming and outgoing experiences, and I know others who share my feelings. Instead of being laid out in some sensible way, it's just stretched, like as long as they could possibly make it, which makes getting from one gate to another (inevitably at the opposite end) just awful. The ceiling rafters are painted in a rainbow and you just spend the walk looking at the ceiling and desperately hoping the colors will shift from orange to yellow soon.

Back to the story. Ten minutes. Terrible airport. Jordanne and I started booking it towards the gate ASAP, with our huge backpacks on our backs. We ran towards our gate until we hit a train, at which point we realized the gate was in the other terminal, a 20 minute train ride and passport check away. At this point we had a minor breakdown on the train, much to the other passenger's enjoyment, I'm sure. We did the only thing we could-trudged to our gate in time to see the plane pulling away. Luckily, the next flight to Heathrow was only an hour away, we had no checked luggage, and they just printed us new boarding passes. Unfortunately, the gate was back in the terminal we'd just sprinted through.

So. We went. Back on the train, back through passport control, back through security (only to realize we'd filled up our water bottles in Granada and had to basically drown ourselves to drink it all in two minutes), and then through passport control again. Judging by my passport, I entered, exited, and reentered Spain all within the space of about twenty minutes. By the time we made it to the new gate, the flight was already boarding and all thoughts of bathroom use or food gathering were lost.

The point here is, of course, that we made it home. Had an adventure, have a story to tell. And that's one of the great reasons for traveling, isn't it? To have stories to tell.

Titanic Tip and Daring Dash, Adventurers Slash Explorers
(It's like a contest to see how many pop culture references I can make in one blog post.
Another 10 points for getting this one)