Stupidity Tax: 100 euros

We were in Barcelona this past weekend celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday. We had been to Barcelona before so it was nice to just chill out this time – drinking sangria, eating tapas, browsing the markets, and hanging out with friends.

The chilling out stopped abruptly at 9:04pm on Sunday evening when we realized we were not on a train to the airport. Instead, we were on a train heading down the coast of Spain.

There were several red flags – like the fact that we were on a cushy, high speed train and that maps of  the whole of Spain were where maps of Barcelona would be – but you know what they say about hindsight.

When the ticket collector asked for our tickets, you could see the irritation in his face when he said we were not on the right train and not only were we going entirely the wrong direction, we also wouldn’t be stopping for another 45 minutes.

We couldn’t do anything except sit there and watch as Barcelona, and the airport, got further and further away. When the train finally stopped, we ran out of the station to find a taxi. We had just under an hour to get to the airport before our flight left and even then we probably would not make the flight.

Luckily Scott speaks Spanish so he was able to explain that we had taken the wrong train and needed to get to the airport as soon as possible. The taxi driver wouldn’t make any promises but we decided it was our only option. We waved goodbye to our friends who would be waiting for the next train back into the city as they did not have a flight to catch.

My stomach was in knots at the thought of missing the last flight of the night, having to sleep in the airport and paying for new flights on Easyjet. When I’m in these situations (and this sort of thing has happened before) I like to just sit there, in silence, praying and hoping and wishing that it all turns out ok.

Scott likes to talk. It’s probably the only time he likes to talk. He likes to give me a running commentary on what time it is, how long we have to go, how expensive the taxi will be, where we’ll go if we don’t make the flight, etc. Every two minutes he would tell me the time and say, “We’re never going to make it.”

Needless to say, it was a long drive where I had to hold myself back from strangling Scott in the backseat. After all, I needed him to communicate with the driver.

Of course, when we arrived at the airport, we didn’t have any cash and Scott went sprinting all over the airport looking for a cash machine. I watched him go back and forth behind the glass windows. The taxi driver made judgmental clicking noises with his tongue and asked, “London?”

I replied, “Yeah, if we make the flight!” But the taxi driver had exhausted his English with just the one word and could only give me confusing looks.

Scott returned, paid the taxi driver, and we ran to departures. Only to look up at the departures screen and see that our flight had been delayed for over two hours. We stood there, panting and laughing and then cursing our luck. If only we had known before risking our lives in a crazy taxi ride and forking over 100 euros!

We agreed that it could have been much worse and settled for paying the stupidity tax and vowing to always allow extra time to get to the airport. Oh, and to double-check what train we’re on.

We finally got to sleep around 4am and I was up for work at 6am. It was rough but worth it.

We stayed in Barcelo Raval hotel – it was awesome and it’s only been open for a month. I definitely recommend it.

I loved all the window coverings in Barcelona.

We had beautiful, warm, sunny weather in Barcelona. Now we’re back to London where tonight it will be colder than Iceland and Moscow. It even snowed.