FLIGHT FROM MADRID
A Spanish
story
My Spanish
friends, a married couple, Pepé and Mercedes, decided to take me to their
cottage in the village of Navaluenga. Here we, with Mercedes´s sister Clara and
brother Iván, should spend the weekend before my flight on Sunday evening back
home. We had two wonderful, sunny days. We had fun, talked and walked. I was
shown that nightlife started here when we in Slovakia are going to sleep.
Consequently, we slept for a long time in the morning. On the day of our
departure, we woke about 11 a.m. We had breakfast on the sunny terrace, and
then we went for a walk. My friend Mercedes asked me about the departure-time of
my flight.
”At 7 p.m.. I should be at the airport before
6 p.m..”
The look on my hosts´ faces told me that we
have a problem. Pepe asked me if I was sure:
”Do you know that the time changed from
winter to summer? It’s now an hour later than we have on our watches!”
I knew, of course, that the time was going to
change. For some reason I thought that the night of the change would be after I
was already on the plane.
It was 1 p.m., in fact already 2 p.m., and my
hosts hurriedly prepared an improvised schedule. Unfortunately, Sunday lunch
was part of the agenda, and a good Sunday lunch one simply can’t bypass in
Spain.
The women cooked and we packed. By the time
we had eaten, washed the dishes, cleaned up and locked the door it was 4
o’clock. Pepe, who was driving, said that everything was going to be okay. We
would make it.
Everything would have been still all right if
we hadn’t found ourselves soon at the rear of a convoy of weekend motorists on
the roads leading to Madrid. But we did. We were stuck in a column that was
only moving inch by inch. We couldn´t turn round or drive across country, only
shuffle along behind the others. I knew it is bad. And, to add insult to
injury, I had to pee soooooo badly. But where? For many kilometers around there
was only a treeless plain. And I was scared that the column would at last start
to move and I couldn’t stray so far from the car. The scene was prepared for an
ideal tragi-farce.
Mercedes and her sister Clara tried to
comfort me. However, all their goodwill was nothing against the fact ringing a
bell all the time again. If I failed to make my flight I would have had to wait
four days for the next one. I had a nonconvertible flight ticket, and on
Wednesday I had to attend a conference in Hungary.
„Be cool, Gustav. If we don’t catch the
plane, we won’t stop until we get to Bratislava.
Convoy of cars finally started moving. Step
by step we finally reached the spot where this whole transportation calamity
started and we collectively sighted with relief. Finally, we made our way on
the Circle Highway around Madrid. Houses and whole districts of the town were
blinking about us quickly, as if Pepe was surpassing all speed limits. But the airport was nowhere to be seen. When I
asked where we were, Mercedes smiled and answered that we were on the outskirts
of Bratislava, a nice attempt of a joke – except that it wasn’t funny. And my
need for a toilet had escalated to an unbelievable degree. But try to stop in
the middle of the highway when your flight leaves in fifteen minutes! So the
casual travelers at the Madrid international airport on this Sunday evening
witnessed a spectacular scene.
A car screeched to a halt and a man dashed
frantically into the terminal. Two girls jumped out from the same car, grabbed
some luggage and ran after the man. Mercedes and her sister Clara tried to
check-in as I was doing my toilet business. But, of course, I had forgotten to
give them my documents.
Well, I can now confirm that Spanish women
maintain their calm in moments of dire crisis. They rushed to the men’s toilet
and explained the situation. I slipped my documents under the door of the
toilet and they dashed back to check-in counter. After I dispensed with all
exigent matters, I ran across the airport hall yanking up my pants. Mercedes and
Clara just had time to give me my passport and boarding pass and I wished them
well and made my way across the inspection points at the airport. All the
officials closed their eyes, and I found the right gate
and clambered in the bus to the plane just
before the door were closed.
Sitting in the plane I needed few cognacs to
help me to recover.
Available in E-books:
Available in E-books:
http://itunes.apple.com/sk/ book/svetje-maly-the-world-is-
small/id554103459?mt=11
http://itunes.apple.com/sk/ book/le-monde-est-petit-world-
is/id554104733?mt=11
http://itunes.apple.com/sk/ book/the-world-is-small-svet-
je-maly/id554101744?mt=11
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