Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Qué Bruta.

'Tis me spacing out as usual on the metro,
which is different from the train, but it'll do for now.

I think about all the reality television shows out there that somehow, despite being downright stupid, pointless, and oftentimes crass even, still garner a significant audience and hence income, and wonder why there aren't cameras following Si and I 24/7. Granted, that would probably be my absolute worst nightmare (and Si's dream come true), but we could supply some money entertainment.

I wasn't kidding when I said my life is ridiculous right now. I told you, February is CRAZY. And this country has it out to get me. Take this morning, for example. The first four hours of my day essentially epitomize what the last few weeks have been like. Somebody pray for peace and calm waters. And perhaps some good sense too. PORFA.

I have neither the time nor energy to detail why I was back at the Iberia Airlines Office this morning for the second time in less than 24 hours (it takes me about 30 minutes to get there, so no, it's not just to hang out and chill), but I was there yet again.

Important side note: I'M COMING HOME!!! Albeit in five months...but I'M COMING HOME nonetheless! Assuming horse stampedes and all such fairytale nonsense are just for boys, 7:00PM on July 15th is going to be the happiest moment of my life. Dah, I can't even wait.

Anyways. After finally, officially booking my return flight to LAX, I went to Plaça Catalunya to catch a train to school; a different station than my usual but after nearly seven months in Spain, I figured I could handle it.

I take it all back. Maybe I was too excited about the thought of being back in the States. Or too depressed the airline lady made me book my flight a whole three days later than I wanted (one day later is already significantly devastating). But I managed to board the S5 train, when my two only options should have been S2 or S55. The whole time I was thinking "Well, this is just so pleasant. An uncrowded train, I can put my feet up, no large men sitting next to me taking up the entire fact, there's no one at all on this entire side of the train! I could even do a jig or two." Wait...I glanced behind to see a smattering of people seated in the other half of the train car. Whew. I proceded to consume my private picnic of a sandwich and let my randomly set iPod lull me into a world of all the forgotten music I don't think to listen to anymore these days.

I glanced out the window to admire the scenic countryside, and smiled at the crisp green of the grass and foliage. But there was someting unsettlingly fresh about the nature that was whipping by outside, something too new and inspiring. A sign boasting the station name "Mirasol" flashed by...WAIT. Hold the phone. I've never seen or heard of Mirasol. WHERE WAS I WHAT WAS I DOING WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON?! WAS I DREAMING?

I finally realized my initial mistake way back at Catalunya and simply resolved to get off at the next station and take the right train back. Too bad the train wouldn't stop. It kept zipping through all these extra dark deserted tunnels and a thought passed through my head considering the possibility that this train was at the end of its line and was consequently taking the day off. Frack. What now.

Finally, the train stopped in a station and I joyously lunged at the door and pushed the green "obrir" button. Nothing. I pushed it again. Nothing. Several more times. Nothing. Okay, so that door wasn't working. I tried the next one. No movement. Next door, nada. I started getting a little panicked. I mean, I was on an entire train entirely by myself, and not only that, I was now trapped. Sweet.

I embarrassedly peered out through the window at all the people seated on the benches waiting for other trains. They just stared blankly at me, and I kept pushing buttons. Obrir obrir obrir already! Finally, a white-haired public transportation uniformed man entered through the driver's "cockpit," came into the train car via secret door, and gave me a look that branded me idiot for life.

"What are you doing here? This train ended in Sant Cugat (that was five stops back, thank you, hahaha). Where are you going?" I sheepishly told him I was just trying to get to the Autonoma as he unlocked the sliding doors (yes, he had to personally UNLOCK the train's sliding doors, eek!) for me and instructed me in the tone of a parent talking down to their three-year-old and in a decible loud enough for the entire train station to hear that I was to stand on THAT side of the waiting area, wait for THAT numbered train, get off at THAT station, and then take another train to THAT school. The volume was probably so everyone could keep an eye on the poor girl who clearly didn't know what she was doing. (I swear, I do...ahem).

Yeah, well, the story doesn't end there. But I'm sure I've squandered your attention span in its entirety already, so we'll just say that I had a few more outrageous (and I don't exaggerate when I use this adjective) scrapes and it ultimately took me over two hours to get to school (as opposed to the normal una hora), where I arrived to discover the meeting I was late for had been rescheduled for March.

Sigh. And all this before noon.

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