It is 10 in the morning Madrid time and 3AM back in Wisconsin. I have 2 hours before leaving the hotel to meet up with the rest of my group to leave for Salamanca. I hope these new people are just as diverting as Kelsey from the flight over. I met Kelsey over an armrest struggle. But lets go even farther back in my travel day.
My first flight from Appleton to Detroit went off without a hitch. The second flight from Detroit to JFK, however, was delayed due to the plane not being ready. So we switched up for a bigger plane and switched gates, understandable. The delay was about 1.5 hours, which is where our problem comes in. When I got to JFK, I had about 30 minutes to make it from terminal C to terminal B. You would think that wouldn’t be that difficult to get to, no. I had to wait for a shuttle to take me to the other terminal which took about 15 minutes. I got to the gate and saw that there was a large pack of people in front of the doors to get on the plane, so I went to go to the bathroom. Huge line and only 1 working stall. I didn’t feel right about the situation so I left and went back to my gate. I went to stand in line and came to find out all those people were looking for extra seats on the flight…my seat. I got checked in and taken to the plane. As I was being seated they counted up any remaining seats, there were none. I probably pissed off a lot of people in those 10 minutes, but I am not done yet. The flight attendant who seated me had to twist someone’s arm to get them to move to their own seat. Apparently she wanted an aisle seat, well so did I, and I got it. Just after getting comfortable, the same flight attendant came to the other woman and I asking if we wanted to move to a spot with more foot room. I said yes, but the other woman didn’t seem too thrilled. The woman next to the difficult woman said she would move, so we did. We get to our new seats and I meet Kelsey. Kelsey is from the Carolinas and going on a class trip touring Spain for a international business class which turns out to not be a class at all, just a trip for credit. Well, we bonded over the woman in the back freaking out over the aisle seat and Val, the third in our trio row, telling us about the woman freaking out over the armrest she couldn’t move. Val was quiet for the 6 hour flight, but Kelsey and I talked about our schools, families, and boyfriends…well her boyfriend (I still have no attention span for my own.) And whenever we saw a cute guy on the plane up and about we smiled and laughed. I think one noticed because he proceeded to show off his manly muscles right in front of us shamelessly. I laughed and called him a cocky douchebag. What can I say, I call em as I see em.
It was nice making a friend even before getting to Spain. It shows promise for the next four weeks. Kelsey reminded me of my friend Mary. She was easy to talk to and gave the feeling of a life-long best friend even before knowing one another’s name. I didn’t want to go to sleep because I didn’t want to lose time talking with her. But all good things must come to an end. We got to Madrid and Kelsey and I exchanged full names for facebook, hug and go our separate ways. I left her at the carousel waiting for her luggage (I hope it made it.)
After about an hour of asking directions I stumbled upon my hotel shuttle as it begins to leave and hail it down. Driving through Madrid, it doesn’t seem too different than window shopping towns in the States. Then again, I wasn’t driving through Madrid proper. I won’t get to see Madrid proper this time around. Just like I will not see Paris again, or London, and not even Scotland and Ireland for the first time. Oh well, another trip at another time, but I WILL get there. The people who know me best know I can’t stay in one place for too long. I have wanderlust, a rare yet treatable situation. Although there is no cure, people with this situation often leave without notice, divert their path, and turn in different directions with no notice. Once in a while we come across another wanderluster and we spend our time together telling tales of wander and wandering together. We wanderlusters have something rare when it comes to friendships though. When we go our separate directions, we know it could be the last time we ever see one another, but our relationship doesn’t suffer.It is like we press pause and if we ever wander into one another again, we just press play. My best friend, like myself, is a wanderluster. She knows no bounderies and will go where the wind takes her, or rather, the pirate ships. She is also a bohemian. I am a bohemian by birth, but she has taken on the ways of the culture more than I have. I still have quirks from my religious upbringing hanging on for dear life. As much as I try to break free from them, they make me who I am. Us bohemians have been called gypsies and hippies as well. What people don’t seem to understand is though we live differently than they do, we turn out just as happy and fulfilled, if not more. We live by the rule of valuing the journey much more than the destination. We travel our forged paths gaining skills that will make the next journey more prosperous. We learn from our own mistakes and not the mistakes of others. We learn by doing. We learn by living.
