Monday, October 14
My dreams really have been incredibly vivid during the entire trip. Many of them i've remembered afterward. Today, i did not; i just know i awoke with an intense feeling of unfinished business. I tried to get back to sleep, to get back into the dream, and fulfill whatever mission i'd left behind, but it was useless. I already couldn't remember what i was trying to do.
Plus, i really needed a shower. It had been a few days, and i had conserved just enough shampoo and conditioner for one last go at this greasy mop. I was also several days out from a shave, so that would be nice, too.
The men's shower on the second floor has been wrapped in caution tape with an out of order sign for two days. I found a condom draped over the shower door after the film fest one night, unclear if used or not, but if it was, someone went to the trouble of rinsing it out. After that, no more shower.
The elevator shows that there are bathrooms available on every floor, but from the landing where the stairs and elevator converge, every floor has a closed doorway that my keycard won't open. Only the second and sixth floors are always open, because the second floor has the main bar, and the sixth floor has the stairway to the seventh floor, where the laundry room and rooftop bar are. I grabbed my shower supplies and laundry detergent and headed upstairs.
I went to the seventh floor and strategically placed the detergent on the floor next to the washer, where i'd eaten dinner a few days ago. Funny i was coming up here draped in a towel again.
The sixth floor bathroom was actually much roomier than the second. Two toilets, two shower stalls, and four sinks, with no need to close off the whole bathroom to take a shower. On the one hand, you'd think that it would make more sense to have this on the second floor, by the bar, instead of the one-toilet situation they have going on down there; on the other hand, it somehow took me until the night before last to realize that the bar actually has its own bathroom. That would have been very helpful to know over the last week.
I got my business taken care of, threw out my empty conditioner bottle, and left the remains of my shampoo, shaving cream, and q-tips in the bathroom for whoever came looking for such items. I've found shampoos and bodywashes in these showers several times. Even used the body wash a couple. Now i can pay it forward.
Or, you know, litter. Depends on your perspective of the situation, i guess. Hopefully someone scoops up my items, though. There were a lot of q-tips left over, and i probably could have stretched that shaving cream for another year.
I went down to eat breakfast. I got the buffet again, this time with full intention to overeat. I never did get anything for dinner last night, so after breakfast, all i'd had was that Snickers bar. Today would be a travel day, so i had no idea when or if i'd get another chance to eat. I'd certainly like to avoid airport food.
After i'd gone full Hobbit, i started to regret my decision, more than a little. The buffet really is just a whole lot of bread. Miniature croissants, toast, cereal. I'm loaded with carbs. I also drank five cups of water, because that's another concern i always have while flying.
But, i packed in all of the food i had taken, because i don't like to throw food away. I stuffed the apple in my pocket, though, that would have to wait.
Back to the room. My bag was not as thoroughly packed as i would have liked. I'd left far more of my items out than i remembered, thinking i'd need them yet in the morning. Many of them, i did not. I left the room for the last time at five minutes to eleven. Got downstairs, only saw one person at the desk for two clerks, and...a group of four swooped straight in at the extra clerk just in front of me. I waited. Don't incur me any late checkout fees, bros. I'll be sad.
Finally got my key card turned in two minutes before the deadline. Although i suddenly realized i'd forgotten to fill my water bottles, so i hoofed it back upstairs to the bar.
Out on the street, i headed toward Humana Vintage, the secondhand store and charity that would accept my donated clothes. I had them separated into two bags, one which i had washed, and the other which i regrettably had not had time to. If they wouldn't accept dirty clothes, then i guess i'd just throw them away; it was the other option anyway.
I walked in, heading for the counter, to offer up my items. The clerk was busy with someone else, but as i looked around, i noticed a giant green donation box in the corner. Oh nice, i don't even need to talk to anyone. I tossed both bags in, and was on my way.
Gosh my backpack feels light. Am i sure i have everything? Getting rid of the clothes, toiletries, and a few spare supplies has made a huge difference.
That's not foreshadowing, by the way, i'm pretty sure i legitimately do have everything. By now you know how much i like to stock Chekhov's armory, but this is a red herring. If something's missing, i haven't discovered it yet.
I suddenly realized two things. One, it was kind of foolish to fill those water bottles, actually, since they'll need to be empty to go through airport security. I now have a liter of water to chug in the next hour. That's all gonna have to fit in my already crampy, bread-packed stomach somehow. Because i'm not gonna just pour it out.
The other thing was, why *did* i eat that huge breakfast, anyway? Yeah, it was cheap, but you know what would have been nicer? Going out and getting that vegetable paella i was craving last night. That's a big meal with a ton of rice that would fill me up for the flight, and if i hadn't sat around the hostel to eat for so long, i would have had plenty of time for it.
Anyway.
I'd walked out of Humana, but just wandered a few doors down, to lean against a tree for a minute. I searched, "Does the Barcelona airport have a post office?" That seemed like a reasonable thing for an airport to have. But unfortunately, it does not. It does have several mail drop-off boxes, but you need to get the stamps elsewhere. In Barcelona, it's traditional for tobacco shops to carry postage stamps, so that was the recommendation.
Or, since i still had plenty of time, i could just find an actual post office and deal with this now. So i searched Maps for post offices.
It says there's one 100 feet away.
Maps isn't that accurate with such short distances, though.
I looked up.
I was standing right in front of it.
Reviews said the service at this location was pretty slow, so i walked in and took a number right away, then set to work filling in the postcards. Service was not actually very slow today, by the time i looked up from my items, they'd proceeded four numbers beyond my own. As soon as the next person left the counter, though, the clerk waved me over. I must've had that look on my face.
The final postcards are away.
He said that, on average, they take 8 days to deliver, give or take. So it looks like "before Halloween" is still on the table.
Alright. Time to get to the airport.
Maps still suggested catching the metro from Passeig de Gràcia, so i headed that way. Even though i should know how to get there by now, i still accepted directions. I don't know why. And i shouldn't have! Maps fucked me up a little here!
I entered the station through a new stairway that i haven't seen before. I bought my ticket to the airport, scanned it, and proceeded through the gate right away. I was looking for an R2N, which terminates at the airport. I went down the stairs.
Neither of these tubes says R2N, R2, or even R. They were both L14, i think. One of the L trains, anyway.
I didn't know what else to do, so i walked onto the platform, and kept walking, hoping to see a departure board which might be like, oh, actually, yeah, R2N's coming soon. I still had plenty of time; it was supposed to depart Passeig de Gràcia at 12:02, and it was only 11:25ish.
There was another opening halfway down the platform, with a staircase leading deeper underground. A sign indicated several other L routes down that way, plus a big orange one with the R logo. Okay! This is it. Why wasn't this on the sign at the entryway?
So when i said, a few days ago, that i was "getting to know the Passeig de Gràcia station pretty well," that was absolutely not true even a little bit. This station is goddamn enormous. There are so many other passageways and platforms that i had not seen before. I walked almost a full mile underground with very little doubling back over my path, losing the R signs occasionally, but always finding them again, before i finally got somewhere i recognized. Somewhere in the middle of all of that, i stopped at a vending machine and grabbed a Coke Zero, because that's how i deal with stress instead of cigarettes. I did have to pass through an exit gate, though; i was worried about that. Would my ticket still work to get back into the tube, now that i've already used it once?
Not far beyond that gate, i came to the section of the station i've been using almost every day. I knew i should've just walked all the way to my regular point of entry in the first place. Probably would've been a shorter walk, and it's a nice day out.
Although, i did get to see more of the underground, which was pretty interesting too.
The gate would not accept my ticket. It kept giving me an error.
There was a man with a yellow safety vest at the gate. He was busy helping some other people who were very confused.
I went back to the ticket counter. There is a manned point of sale next to the automated machines that i usually use.
"Hi. I bought this ticket at the other end of the station, and it won't let me through the gate. It keeps giving me an error," i said.
"Oh! Yes. Go to the gate, the yellow man will open it for you."
"The yellow man?"
"Yes," she repeated.
I returned to the guy with the vest, and told him the same thing.
"Airport, yes, go down this staircase and to the left," he said.
"Yes, i know, but my ticket won't open the gate. Can you open it for me?"
"Yes, airport this way," he said. His English was not strong. We went around in circles for a moment, then i just showed him. I put the ticket into the machine, and it spit it back out and gave the error.
"The lady at the ticket desk said you could open the gate for me," i said, pointing back at the desk.
He looked at my ticket quizzically, muttered some things under his breath, then produced a ticket from his pocket. He scanned that, and the gate opened. I thanked him, and was on my way.
It was 11:59. I'd spent 35 minutes getting twisted around in the station and messing with the ticket scanner.
I took up a spot on what passes for a bench in the Barcelona subway. I don't think i've mentioned these before; they're just two metal rods, one almost against the wall, the other only a few inches out from it and maybe a foot lower, so that you can kind of bend your legs and put your butt on the lower pipe in a semblance of sitting, but you're not really sitting. You've got some of your weight supported, sure, but you're still doing work with your legs to make sure you don't slide off. Remember, kids, anti-homeless architecture is also anti-disabled architecture, and anti-human architecture. This sort of thing must be resisted at all costs. Even if you only care about yourself, remember that none of us stay able-bodied our whole lives. Someday this *will* affect you.
I couldn't even sit down, with my backpack and all, but i was able to rest its weight on the bar somewhat. I opened that Coke, thinking to myself, why did i buy this way down in the passageways, when i know damn well there are vending machines right here on the platform? And then i thought, wait why did i buy this at all? I'm about to go through airport security! Now i have a THIRD bottle of liquid i need to chug.
Dipshit.
The R2N appeared almost immediately.
The trip took me through Barcelona Sants one last time, where it exits the underground and becomes an overland commuter train. Shortly after, it split off form the R2S route and into new parts of the city i hadn't seen yet. The airport was quite far, actually.
The train stopped right outside the doors to Terminal 2, which coincidentally happened to be the one i needed. The train was actually elevated by this point, so from the platform, i took a skybridge over to the airport. Most of the crowd was heading downstairs once we got into the building, and there were signs for check-in leading that way, so i followed them.
Then i realized, i've already checked in online. I don't need to go here. The Icelandair desk was right in front of me. It was empty.
I looked around for departures, but all i was seeing was arrivals.
I reached the end of the airport, and turned around.
Oh, there's the departures sign. It's pointing back up the stairs, exactly where i came from.
...
Audible sigh.
Yeah, if i'd turned left when i entered the building, instead of going downstairs, it would have put me directly into the security corrals.
I stood outside of the queue, next to a recycling bin, guzzling down my drinks. I got one water bottle finished off pretty easily, but i'd already had a good head start on that. The Coke was harder. I started on the second, but i couldn't do it. I recycled the Coke bottle, put the water back in my vest, and proceeded. The corrals look pretty empty from here, but surely there will be a bit of a wait up ahead.
...not really.
There were barely a dozen people waiting to be let into the scanners when i got to the top of the line. I held back, drinking more water, but i still couldn't finish it there. I put it back yet again, scanned my boarding pass, and was up to the line.
There was a small waiting area on this side of the turnstile, though. I pulled over there, and tried to sip through the last of the bottle slowly.
I did it. I did it!! All of those drinks are inside of me!
Sloshing!
Oh god!
Oh i don't like this at all!
If i throw up here, it's going in the recycling bin, because i don't see a trash can!
I took a second to collect myself, and stepped up to the conveyor belt.
I pulled out my laptop, of course, standard procedure. Set my camera in the bin, threw in the phone, my watch, everything from my pockets. Took off my vest and put it on top. Then i sent everything on its way, as i approached the metal detector. No one was taking their shoes off. That's nice. It would be great if the United States could get over that, too.
Oh shit, that apple is still in my vest. Meant to eat that before security, too.
Well, whatever. If they throw away my apple, it is what it is.
I did set off the metal detector. I'm not sure how. I patted myself down, trying to figure out what had done it, while i waited for them to come check me out.
I didn't get frisked, though. The guard asked me to hold out my hands. She rubbed the backs and the palms with some kind of a semi-moist wipe on a long handle, then asked to check my belt. She rubbed the wipe across the top of my pants, too. Then she let me go.
What...just happened?
I don't know this one.
The bin with all of my stuff got pushed off to a separate conveyor belt, on the secure side of the plexiglas. I stood and waited while the guard dealt with the bin before mine, as several people passed me by, able to grab their things from the open belt before us. Finally, she came back, pointed at the bin, and asked if it was mine. I confirmed, and she wheeled it down to a computer station at the end of the conveyor.
She brought the x-ray up on the screen. "Hmm, looks like you need to take the computer out of the bag," she said.
I pulled the laptop out from under my vest. "The computer is here," i said.
She stared at it, confused, for a moment. She looked at the bag for a minute, then indicated my zipper locks. "Can you open this?"
I dug through the loose items in the corner of the bin to find the keys, and complied. I opened the flaps as wide as they go, like a shark's unhinged jaw. She poked around. She pulled out the soft case with the hard drives. She rubbed several slashes across the backpack with the same wipe that the guard had used on my body. "You need to go back through. Please separate the electronics. Put the laptop and everything into a separate tray."
"Just take all of this back to the beginning?" i asked.
"Yes."
"Okay. Thank you," i said. Why do we say "thank you" to airport security? Ugh.
So i did that. I still hadn't taken some of the cameras out of the backpack, but the laptop was in a separate tray now, along with the R6m2, the hard drives, and my phone. Everything else stayed in the original tray.
I stepped up to the metal detector, unsure whether i'd done enough or if i was gonna need to go back for round three. Somehow, i did not set off the detector this time, even though none of the items on my person have changed.
Was that even a metal detector? Or was i being screened to see if i was a Cylon?
Okay. I'm through. My trays came down the regular belt this time, so i was able to pack up and continue.
The security checkpoint leads directly into a large duty free shop. A path snakes around the whole thing, to make sure you can see all of their wares, before you're released to find your gate. Haven't seen that done before, but i understand why they would. And i hate it.
I found my flight on the departure board, but the gate wasn't listed yet. "Gate to be announced in 104 minutes," it said.
Okay. I guess i just need to find someplace to be for 104 minutes. Preferably someplace with a power outlet. I'd gotten an email moments beforehand about my flight; they are currently upgrading the entertainment system onboard, so it will be unavailable. However there will be wifi, if you'd like to use your own devices, but there are no power outlets, so "we recommend bringing a fully-charged device." My laptop was at 100%, but i wanted it to stay that way. Also, my watch was down to 8%, so i needed to plug that in for a bit.
After (separately) emptying my bladder and filling my water bottles, i found an area with several desks set up that had power outlets right on top. I sat down at one, across from another guy. I gave him the customary smile and nod. He gave me a glance, and before i could even get my laptop back out of my bag, he started packing up his things, and left.
Alright. Guess i've got this desk to myself.
Two other people rotated through across from me while i waited.
I spent this time booking a hostel in Reykjavik, and looking into the transportation situation. It still sucks, getting from the airport into the city proper, and i'm still not going to have very much time. But i will have a little. So i need to make sure that i'm using it wisely.
From the airport to Reykjavik, there's the Flybus, which runs every hour, takes about an hour to get there, and costs freakin €28. If i take that both ways, it will cost more than the hostel. Ridiculous.
Then, there is a city bus, which costs 650 ISK (about $4.50) takes almost an hour and a half, and leaves at 6:38. My flight is supposed to get in at 6:20. If i miss it, the next one isn't until 8:38.
It's a tight window. That plan really hinges on the flight landing on time. Also, i'll need to be able to find the damn bus stop quickly once i'm off the plane.
I downloaded the Reykjavik city bus app, so i can buy a bus ticket as i board, if i make it. If i don't...guess i'll take the Flybus, because i'm not waiting around for two hours and missing out on anything i could still do in the evening in Reykjavik.
That punk rock museum that i really wanted to go to on the way in, two months ago, is only open from 10am - 6pm, so i'll have to hit that in the morning, and not spend too much time there. The flight home leaves at 4:45, and i'll have the same bad transportation options tomorrow, so i need to be very cognizant of that.
I had not been paying attention to the time at all while i sat there, looking at Iceland things. I suddenly realized that it was 2:45. My plane would start boarding in twenty minutes, and depart in one hour.
When i left Chicago, they'd called my name over the PA to have my carryon inspected, and get that "Icelandair Approved Cabin Baggage" tag, which i left on the handle for six weeks before it fell off. I didn't know if i'd need to do that again. I hadn't heard any announcements.
I got my things packed, refilled my water bottles again, and looked for a departure board. Gate U36. And there was a bright yellow message in the next column: "GET TO YOUR GATE."
Oh wow. That's. Ominous. Possibly confrontational.
I'd better hurry. They might be calling my name.
Fortunately, it wasn't too far. I ate the apple on the way, to clear out pocket space. Some people had begun to line up at the desk, but boarding hadn't started yet. Seemed like i still had a little time, so i slipped off to a bathroom for a minute. The nearest one was downstairs, in a pretty empty waiting room, where it looked like they loaded buses to bring people to planes when they load from staircases on the tarmac.
For as empty as the waiting area was, the bathroom was pretty busy. While i was in there, i heard an announcement about boarding at gate U34. That's my gate! I thought. I couldn't hear anything being said over the constant running of hand dryers as all of these people kept cycling through the room. I hope it's not important. I hope they're not calling me, specifically, individually.
I finished quickly and hurried back upstairs.
Oh wait. I'm at gate U36, not U34. That wasn't for me at all.
Phew.
I joined the lineup of people by the desk. Boarding would begin soon, anyway.
To be safe, i started pulling some of the denser items out of my backpack, like the hard drives, and the entire hard-shelled GoPro case that i've been storing cables in, and stuffed them into my clothes. This is how i'd traveled here, i had no reason to expect not to do it on the way back, too. Gotta make sure that backpack fits comfortably in their little metal box, and is under 10kg.
With that done, i strapped it to my back, and waited dutifully.
I looked around at all the other backpacks in line.
No one had an "Approved cabin baggage" label.
When the time came, they scanned my passport and my boarding pass, and let me through. No one said a word about my backpack.
How many thousands of things have i been anxious about, that have never even been noticed or asked about by anyone? My brain is the only true antagonist of this story.
Hell, the one in Chicago didn't even weigh or size it, he just took one look, slapped the tag on, and let me go.
I'm still gonna be like this tomorrow, though. I've got to do this one more time, and of course when you're not prepared is the time that someone makes a big deal of it. I didn't get checked by Icelandair in actual Iceland last time, because i never left the terminal.
I boarded the plane.
I'm all the way in the back. Second to last row. Very convenient for going to the bathroom. Not encouraging for getting to that bus in under 18 minutes.
There's a small child behind me. He already tossed a toy car through the seat, which i had to pick up and give back to him. Also, the handle from his stroller apparently fell out of the overhead bin and landed on the seat next to me at some point before i came in. I handed it to the stewardess and said, "I don't know what this is."
"Oh!" she said, looking back at the couple behind me. "This is from your stroller, right?" They confirmed, and she looked back at me. "Don't worry, it's not part of the plane."
Just before we pulled away from the gate, the captain came over the intercom to introduce himself and the first officer, and give us a quick update. The kid started screaming and crying.
Parents gave him a tablet with the sound on to shut him up.
I was so close, SO CLOSE to having the tradeoff of the toddler being back there offset by the two seats next to me remaining empty. No one had boarded in a while, but right at the last moment, a couple in their 60s made their way back to me, and slid in.
They also don't seem to have any qualms about watching videos on their phones with the sound up.
Uggghhhh.
I'm pretty good at tuning this sort of thing out, so it won't bother me for long. It's not so much the sound that gets to me as the audacity. But, i'm not going to complain about it, because i know that sometimes it's me that's the problem, and i don't feel very good being complained about when i am. Like that guy in Vilnius that thought i was snoring too loud. Or the one in Warsaw who was upset that told me to go to bed, because he thought he had the authority to do that.
All of the above quieted down pretty quickly. I'm now two out of four hours into this flight, and it hasn't become an issue since. Although the dad behind me pulls on my seat occasionally, for some reason? And the guy in front of me has reclined his seat, nearly squishing my laptop, and cramping me in here even further. I hate that economy seats are allowed to recline, i really do. There's not enough space behind you. It straight up is an act of taking comfort away from the person behind you to increase your own.
But that's just me, i guess.
Alright.
Reykjavik, here i come.
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