London Chronicles: The Great Mishap

Right out the gate and its time for a horrific (for me) European travel story:

Now I've always been a procrastinator, however my time in Spain may or may not be exacerbating that fact. So considering I had a flight to London tonight means... I packed this morning. In my defense I'm a light packer and pretty low maintenance. Although I will acknowledge that my decision to stay up late doing last minute research may have harmed rather than helped me (long term effects are still to be determined).

Yet this morning was actually chill. I got my stuff together, stopped by a chino to get some earplugs and sleeping mask, and then headed over to Raícesp for a theology class. (Which I found fascinating; we looked at the different streams of Christianity since the Protestant reformation.) We ran long like I expected, so I printed my bus tickets there and just went straight to the bus station. No problem. In fact it was even better. I had forgotten I bought a supra bus ticket so my seat was cushy and spacious and no one was yaking up a storm the whole time.

Once we got to Malaga, we made an unexpected detour at the bus station instead of going directly to the airport, which threw me for a loop. Everyone seemed to be getting off and I nervously looked around to see if anyone was staying. Thankfully I wasn't the only one, so I kept my cool and sure enough we were on our way again.

Por fin the airport was in sight. I got my bags and headed to a bench to orient myself. I had rearranged my bag so I could fit everything in one according to RyanAir regulation. But when I went to take out my boarding pass to have it in hand, all I found were my printed bus tickets.

No.

I had left my boarding pass in my school bag. At the apartment. In Granada. Two and a half hours away.

Noooooo

I was flying with RyanAir, notoriously the most unforgiving and unaccomodating airline that is in existence.

Nooooooooooo.

I was ready to cry.

However I started praying under my breath to keep myself from hyperventilating until I could confirm I had no hope. My specs were not looking good. I had seen computers but never printers at airports so I started drawing up a back up plan. I could go back into the city to find a place to print... but it was in my email not on a flash drive. My breathing became more harried. First things first: find an information desk. But once I explained myself, the woman only delivered bad news. Not only was there no place to print in the airport but I could only print the tickets up to 6 hours before the flight departed. My back up plan needed a back up plan.

My heart sank. She recommended I go talk to Ryan Air to figure it all out. In full battle mode. I scoured the airport seeing different airlines' check-ins and their printers mocking me as I mentally composed desperate pleas to let me print from them. I found the Ryan Air office. Closed. My chest tightened. However they were loading luggage. So I waited anxiously in line to speak with a representative not knowing what I could even bargain for. When I was finally up to bat, I started to make my move, but I got the hold-on signal from the lady. Of frickin course. Precious time was slipping through my grasp. She got on her radio, checked the computer, talked to her co worker, all the while I'm practicing my breathing like I'm in labor.

Then she motioned me over and she spoke in English. Praise. The. Lord. Just the break I needed to calm down. I cut the excuses and just laid it out there.
-I don't have my tickets
Where to?
-Stansted.
When?
-8:30
You need to go to the computers past Starbucks and print there, but you need to go now. We have a 4 hour limit before boarding

I was flabbergasted. The airport had a printer! It was 4 hours not 6! ....Hold up! Info lady from before needs to get her mess together! (I know, I know, my fault not hers but ooo I was heated).

At this point I run. I didn't know the time and didn't care to check. All I knew was Ryanair lady told me to go, so I was getting to going. I found the computers. There was only one with a printer. Still amped on adrenaline I only notice the minutes. It's 26 past the hour, I may or may not only have 4 minutes to print this out. First attempt: failure. It printed a screen shot instead of my pass. Second attempt: I tasted the sweet relief of success.

Turns out I did have an hour to get it printed, but I didn't care. I just walked over to a table and put my head down thankful but still reeling from the possibilities of missing my flight. My dad would have killed me or at least the emanation of his frustration across ocean would have beaten me into a hole. I would have been so embarrassed and upset. I almost couldn't believe I had been that forgetful. Almost.

What makes this situation a little bit more painful is that this was not the first time this has happened. I was 14 and going to El Salvador when on the morning of the flight I had the bright idea of trying out a different bag just hours before I left. I decided to stick with the original bag, but had left my passport in the other one. Unfortunately I couldn't just print out another passport. I ended up having my brother speed from Poquoson to the Norfolk airport in 40 minutes to get it to me right as we had to go through security.

I can be so unbelievably empty headed, its not even funny, but hey here's to life experiences. So praise the Lord for the bus schedule getting me there super early, having a Ryan Air lady who cut to the chase, and an available printer at the airport. Jesus, please dear lord, help me not be a knucklehead while I'm in London.

*Dad if you're reading this, let me remind you that the important thing is everything worked out.*