Ready for Take Off

March 28, 2013 (continued)

If you recall (and if you don’t that is okay…I’ll give you a little recap) I booked this trip to Barcelona on a bit of a whim. I’d originally wanted to go to Rome for Easter, but found that everything in Rome for that weekend was either (a) expensive or (b) sold out. I’d contacted a few travel agencies about possibly getting tickets to go to the Vatican for Easter Mass, and the only one who got back to me was Andy Steves. Andy is the son of PBS travel guru Rick Steves. He runs a small travel agency now that markets to exchange students. According to his website, he networks 10-15 students each weekend with a local in the area to try and create “wow moments” while immersing students in the day-to-day culture of a European city.

He replied to my Vatican request saying that while he did have a connection for tickets, he was sold out of the tickets. He suggested I go to Barcelona. Initially, I dismissed the idea. I figured that after three years of high school Spanish, I knew everything I needed to know about Spain. Shrugging it off, I started working with the exchange students here in Prague on a trip to Poland for Easter.

Schedule conflicts and midterms cancelled that trip, and I became frustrated. I wanted to travel, but not alone. I wanted to go see some of the “big sites” but not too expensive. So I emailed Andy back and had him put together a quote for me on Barcelona. When he replied, I compared it to what I’d spend if I went on my own, and saw that he was saving me some money and providing a group to travel with. So I booked it!

I sat at gate D2 and journaled for a bit about my trek across town. After I finished making notes, I fiddled with my ipod a bit, figuring out how to connect to the free wifi. I had an email on my ipod with directions of how to get from the airport to the hostel once I arrived. It dawned on me, that if my ipod died, I didn’t have those directions anywhere else. I reopened my journal and transcribed them on a page in the back.

I’d brought a little travel dictionary with me. Pulling it out, I flipped through the pages, testing myself on Spanish phrases. I was pleasantly surprised at how many I remembered.

After a while, a family came and sat down but they didn’t wind up staying at the gate. I decided to get up and walk around. I went to the restroom and, in a stall, refastened my passport keeper around my waist, while actually tucking my passport, ipod, and wallet into the various compartments inside my jacket.

Back out in the concourse, I walked around a bit taking photos of airplanes. It was starting to snow outside, and I’m starting to loth cold weather. Taking pictures, I realized how much I really did miss people from back home. I love the adventure, but it is becoming painful not having anyone to share it with.

I poked my head into a few of the souvenir shops, but didn’t buy anything. I also looked in a few restaurants but decided to skip breakfast. If I wasn’t travelling, I wouldn’t be awake yet, therefore I shouldn’t be hungry.

I went back to the gate, which was filling up but still mostly empty, and read some of Anne Frank’s diary. As it got more and more crowded, it became harder to read over the noise, and I tucked the book back into my backpack.

When 6:40 came, there was no call for boarding. The plane had shown up and the gate agents were at the counter, but no announcement was made. No one even waited in line. The board over the gate confirmed this was my flight to Barcelona. It showed it was on time. It showed boarding was supposed to start at 6:40. I started getting antsy, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone else.

I twiddled my thumbs, fidgeted in my seat, and checked and rechecked my boarding pass. Finally, a little after 7:00, they announced (first in Czech, then in English) that those travelling with children or requiring extra time could now board.  Close to 7:10—our original departure time—I got in line. I hadn’t specifically heard any other groups or sections called yet, but it seemed like the gate had mostly cleared out.

The woman scanned my boarding pass, compared it to my passport, and thanked me. I walked down the jet way, which was a long, steep, metal tube with round windows on either side. It was freezing cold and smelled of jet fuel.

On the plane, I was pleasantly surprised that all of the announcements were in Spanish. I understood almost all of them. While I couldn’t translate every word they said, I knew enough to know when they talked about storing overhead baggage, fastening seatbelts, the weather in Barcelona, etc.

My seat was 30D. It was the aisle seat literally in the last row at the back of the plane. When I approached, there were two young people in the seats next to me; one boy and one girl. They looked to be about the same age, but I couldn’t tell if they were younger than me or not. Without saying anything, I stored my bag under the seat, and sat down.

I never sleep on airplanes. I find it awkward and uncomfortable, and I’m normally excited enough to stay awake. This time was different. I’d already been up for almost five hours. Within literal seconds of sitting down, I was out cold.

I woke up a little when the plane started moving and I understood that we were moving to the deicing chamber. Again, within seconds, I was asleep, and don’t know how long deicing actually took. The take-off work me up (and it seemed like we climbed at a pretty steep clip) but again, I dozed off immediately.

At one point in the flight, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was the boy seated by the window. I looked at him and he pointed to the overhead compartment. I undid my seatbelt, stood up to let him and the girl out. They rummaged through their bag for some sandwiches , and then sat back down.

 I saw that the flight attendants were serving drinks so I stayed awake at that point. When they got to our row, they asked first in Czech, then in Spanish, and then in English, “Something to drink?”

“Orange juice?” I asked.

The man poured me a cup of the same brand Ivana had bought in Germany. “Coffee or tea?” he asked.

Apparently coffee and tea are not “something to drink.” I asked for some tea.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Yes please,” I said. He handed me two small packets along with a silver pack of cookies.

My stomach was grumbling a little and I considered buying a package of potato chips. The cookies however—which were caramel flavor—seemed to take the edge off. I was surprised when both the sugar and the cream for my tea where white powder. I’m not sure I’d ever used powdered cream before, but the tea still tasted great and gave me a little bit of caffeine. Shortly after I finished everything, the flight attendants came back through to take our trash. When they did, they gave us little miniature Milka treats.

Best airline ever!

The caffeine made no difference. Within minutes, I was asleep again. Occasionally, someone would bump be on their way to the restroom, but I would pass out immediately again.

When we started to descend, it wasn’t the announcement that woke me, but the pressure in my ears. I equalized them, and made sure I still had my passport and wallet in my pockets.

“Excuse me,” the girl sitting next to me said. “Don’t you think it is awkward we have sat together and have not met?”

In my head I thought, no, I’m an American and that’s pretty much how we fly. Instead I reached out my hand and said, “I’m Zach.”

“Deborah,” she said. She had a distinct Czech accent. “Where are you from?”

“America,” I said.

“You had layover in Prague?” she asked.

“No I am studying in Prague for the semester. I’ve been here about two months.”

“Oh!” She smiled. “You like it?”

“I do,” I said. “Although it is starting to get a little cold.”

“Yes,” she said. “And do you speak Spanish?”

I shrugged. “A little,” I said. “I took it in high school but I’m not sure how much I will remember. Do you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I study it in my school and I think when I got to college I will study it.”

It made me chuckle a little. I think these were the first people I’d met since I left the US that were younger than me.

“So you are going to Barcelona with your family?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said pointing to her brother. “Our parents are over there.” She pointed to a man and woman sitting across the aisle. I was pretty sure his hip bone had been one of many that disturbed my nap.

“Well I would have introduced myself sooner,” I said, “but I always feel like my accent makes me stick out so I try not talk in public.”

She laughed. “I don’t think you have much accent. You sound like Americans in movies.”

We turned to look out the window, as we were now only feet above the ground. Our wheels touched down, and everyone on the plane lurched forward.

“Will you go to Madrid while you are here?” she asked.

“No, just Barcelona,” I said. “You?”

“No, but I have been there with school,” she said. “But never to Barcelona. I have to be my family’s translator since I speak Spanish.”

We laughed a little.

“Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Barcelona,” the voice said in English over the announcement.

Once again, I smiled, thinking to myself…I did it!!