My day getting to the plane was nuts to begin with. I had to pick up my youngest son at summer camp, so I left the house at 5:00am, drove 2 hours to the Texas Hill Country, collected him and his belongings, then drove 2 hours back. We returned at 9:30am, and had to be at the airport by 11:00am. Thankfully, my sister-in-law offered to give us a ride to the airport, and we made it in time.
All of my son's clothes smelled, uh...campy, but I had the bright idea of doing his back to school shopping before our trip, so he had some nice duds to wear in Spain. This was a good idea.
Once we were in the airport matrix, changing planes, looking for gates, there wasn't much that I wanted to write about.
These are the first notes in my journal of my trip to Spain. Initially I thought I would be able to blog everyday on my journey, sending back quirky, clever observations jotted down throughout the day. Now, after the trip, I realize that traveling in a group of eleven, with three teenagers of my own, that my blogging notion was a starry eyed fantasy vision. (Here, insert mental image of me, wearing a jaunty beret, a French sailor's blue and white striped jersey, red neckerchief, hair arranged in a perky flip, smiling and chewing pensively on the eraser of a yellow No. 2 pencil. Oh brother...)
Anyway, this is what I scribbled while I was on the plane:
- Stewardess = Eva Braun's Evil Twin
- Ghastly septum clearing from the guy in the row behind me
- Airplane toilets sound like a snarling puma behind you when you flush them. Scary.
- Funky jazz band in Concourse E in Atlanta - Even the order taker at Quizno's was drumming on the counter top.
That was as far as I got. I slept most of the way to Madrid, and we arrived at 9:00am local time. We picked up our luggage, then took a bus to the train station, where we caught the AVE bullet train at 2:00pm to Malaga, where we would meet up with the rest of our clan.