^^ En route to the supermarket to buy a couple of extra tetilla cheeses Just In Case the Big Cheese Bag is MIA!
^^ I’m ten minutes before opening time and so start a quick sketch.
^^ En route to the bus stop, where I sit for ten minutes, pleased that I found the right one without even looking – there it was right there with the Airport Express timetable on the shelter wall.
I take photos ^^ and then realise this is the stop I got off at two nights ago, which means it is not the right one after all. I go looking. And ask a couple of people, because asking is often quicker than fumbling about on your own.
The right stop is right in front of this magnificent building ^^, the one I had just photographed from across the roundabout. I only have to wait two minutes and the bus appears.
At the airport I take my own advice and decide to ASK where I can find my bag that arrived two days ago. The señora tells me to go to the arrivals hall where I had come from without the Big Bag barely a day and a half ago through the door that says “Authorised access only”. I figure she has authorised me. The security man on the other side disagrees. I wonder about playing the dumb English-only-speaking tourist, but decide he might consider my plight more favourably if I explain my case in Spanish. It works.
It is a few minutes before ten and I am in the queue at the Iberia desk. Behind me a woman cries “Es mío” and pushes past me to claim the lilac handbag that has just been retrieved from behind a wall. I hope I’ll be so lucky.
“I’m looking for my bag that didn’t arrive two days ago.” (I’m still going for the *speak Spanish* approach)
I show the bearded official my case number and he assures me I’m in the right place. Good start.
He apologises for the delay while he searches the computer system.
Then the news is good – he’s found it….before it turns bad – it’s a very big warehouse that all the bags are kept in and they will be closing from 10-1 and so they might not be able to find it…that’s what I think he’s told me, but the timeframe is pretty tight if I’ve misunderstood, so I ask if he speaks English and get him to confirm my understanding. Yep, it’s as bad as it sounds.
“I need to be at T1 by 2o’clock. Now I’m a bit worried.”
“I would be too. I’ll ring them, but we only have a few minutes.”
It’s not looking good. We start discussing my flight time and concocting a plan…when his phone rings. He smiles at me and thanks the person on the other end. It’s been found and will pop out on Carousel 6.
And indeed it did ^^
Right at that moment I was on a call to family at home and I ditched them in favour of taking a snap and rescuing the bag.
Actually two guys heaved it off the belt for me as it moved away. In spite of being taped, the zip was broken and open, but it didn’t look like anything had escaped. When I returned to the Bearded Official to sign his form saying the case was closed, I asked where I could buy some more tape. His colleague handed me some, saying it is not the best!
But it is far better than nothing.
Seeing as the bag was open, I snaffled a couple of things I wanted and stuffed my stinky sandshoes inside. So glad to not be wearing them – and my fellow passengers would be grateful if they knew from what fate they have been saved!
I thought I was done. All I had to do was walk back out through those doors and hop on the shuttle bus to Terminal One.
Except another security guard stopped me. He inspected the tag on my bag and pointed out quite correctly that it was not a current flight. I explained my bag had not arrived two days ago, looked pathetic and he let me through.
Now it was just a matter of sitting here ^^ and waiting for the check-in desk details to appear on the board.
Except it wasn’t. After a couple of hours three men in high visibility vests came along and said they needed to move the bank of seats. I thought I had misunderstood. But it turned out I hadn’t.
Mr Yellow Suitcase and I looked on…and then took the two free seats at the end of the next bench.
For a few minutes.
The three high vis vests returned and we realised they wanted more than one bank of seats. They may well have thought we were stupid, because they made sure we wouldn’t sit on the next one:
They actually had a very good reason for moving them – they were right next to the main doors and were preventing flow of foot traffic. Who knows how long the situation had been this way, but it made sense to move them.
Mr Yellow Suitcase and I repositioned ourselves elsewhere – and only minutes later had a giggle together as a traveller plonked himself down in the newly-vacated space. I’d have taken a photo, but it would have felt like an invasion of his privacy. During the Seat Moving Incident, half a dozen people had gone running past at speed, completely frazzled, wheelie suitcases almost flying behind them. This guy was the last of the group, lagging a bit behind, and judging by his body language now – flinging himself to the floor, throwing his jacket on the ground, stomping his foot, grabbing his phone, then holding his head in his hands and starting to sob (anger to disappointment in three seconds) – I’m guessing he had just missed his flight. I wondered what else this more-than-six-foot-tall young man was missing…his grandma’s funeral?his sister’s wedding? euros in his bank account that he could ill afford to lose? Whatever it was, he was deeply affected and I whispered a prayer for him as he picked himself up and walked out the glass doors.
SoloWalk2024 