I arrived in Madrid sans luggage. And what airline did I fly? Yes. Jet Airways. So, thank you, India. I will fly you again because you are cheap but I will skip the baggage claim area from here on out.
The whole trip from New York to Madrid can be imagined with me running. I arrived at Newark with an hour and a half before take off. If you know anything about an international flight, it’s that they generally start boarding an hour before take off. So, I quickly dragged all my bags to the check in counter where I encountered a very pretty and very done up attendant who always looked at me as though she expected me to argue with her. When I told her I was doing well after she asked me how I was doing, she stared at me for an extra 10 seconds, expecting me to continue speaking. Last time I checked, my life story is not appropriate story telling material at an airport check-in counter so I generally try to refrain and keep my answers short and sweet. Then, when she told me I needed to go pay the overage fees at a different counter, she grabbed her armor and positioned herself in defense mode as I replied with, “ok, where is it?” Maybe a good 11 or 12 seconds later, she pointed me towards the sign. All this quiet time, pregnant with anticipation, made me extremely anxious that I wasn’t a sufficient customer and really didn’t add much to this woman’s day. I tried to get over it but I was battling my insecurity as I walked to the Jet Airways counter. Alive and growing, my anxiety catapulted when the guy charging me the overage cost had to fill out the most backwards and antiquated paperwork both about the luggage and then just to get my credit card information. He didn’t even have a swipey thing. He literally had to do everything by hand. 10 minutes later, I returned to the Jet Airways counter only to find that the attendant hadn’t waited for me and they had the luggage carrier waiting for me to give me my boarding pass. He was really nice but I couldn’t help but feel a bit slighted. Did I do something wrong? I was all smiles and sunshine and easy and she couldn't even wait for me? Was she breaking up with me?
At this point, my flight departs in an hour and announcements for boarding are being made over the loudspeaker. Security was pretty easy, I run to the gate and board the flight. I love it when you sprint to a flight only to then sit on the runway in line to take off. It was only 45 minutes but it was 45 minutes that fucked me over on the other end. The best news of the day was that the flight was far from booked so I got 3 seats all to myself! So, I pulled out my laptop and did something that I never do. I made myself the most amazing playlist for the flight. I KNOW!! I never make myself playlists. As we all know, I get so much pleasure out of other people making me play lists. It’s just so fun to hear someone else’s soundtrack. And this time, I actually stepped up to the plate! Anyway, clearly I’m really impressed with myself.
So, onward ho, the flight takes off and lands and all is fine and dandy because I’ve pretty much succumbed to the fact that I’ll be lucky to make my flight and I don’t care enough to be stressed about it. The flight lands, I grab my bags and sprint to the next terminal. All seems to be in the clear when suddenly the crowds begin to slow down, people start to leisurely put their bags down and I’m forced to do a quick stop because I’m streaming through the crowds in such a blind fashion (like any well trained New Yorker) that I don’t realize the boulders in my way (generally referred to as people but when you’re just walking and avoiding them as though you were in a video game, it’s easier to do so when you stop looking and just acknowledge that there is some thing in your way rather than some one) are actually coming to a full stop.
My eyes come back into focus only to see that I’ve approached an hour long security line. I’ve never done this before but I march up to the front of the line, explain that my flight is leaving in 10 minutes and just throw my things on the belt and go through the metal detectors. Karma. Oh Karma. I get pulled aside. Why? Because all the jewelry in my bags seemed hazardous through the machines. Really Brussels? (that’s where I am) No one else has ever given a fuck about my jewelry and now, NOW, you decide that it’s something to examine? Again, as nicely as I can, I tell them my flight is in 10 minutes, my other flight was delayed, can they just check it fast and point me in the right direction. So, they do but they fail to mention that it’s another 10 minutes up the stairs.
Best work out ever. I’m sprinting to my gate. The flight attendant is waving me down and ushering me in as quickly as possible. She takes my ticket, along with my baggage tickets (argh) and pushes me on board and closes the doors. Sweating and out of breath, I get to my seat, sit down, buckle up and we take off right as I realize that I don’t have the baggage tickets.
Karma again! Karina, why are you skipping the lines?! Why are you telling people to speed up?! Always bad! So, a short flight later, we land and I march to the empty and static belt, exhale, turn around to the lost and found luggage man and do my very best to explain to him that I have lost my luggage, the luggage tickets, I don’t know the brand of the luggage, and I don’t have a phone number. The very kind man who officially thinks I’m an idiot but who will help me because he has nothing better to do, saves the day, gets the luggage on a new flight, and promises me I will have it by Saturday night. Well, it did not but who cares. I made my flights and, thanks to India, I didn’t have to carry my suitcases and I took a 1 Euro bus ride to a big bus station which happens to be 100 feet from my apartment.
Oh India. Always such a silver lining.
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