Last week my friend finally arrived for her long awaited girl’s weekend in Barcelona (long awaited by moi even more so – a quiet life by the ocean can get tedious when you on your eis). Lee-Anne was here to inject some fun and excitement into my mellow existence. And by god did she ever!
Wednesday evening I head off by train to collect Lee who has arrived 30minutes early. As if this trip was getting a blessing from above I too am also early – what a great start to what’s sure to be a wicked weekend ( not too wicked mind you -she has a spouse )
My friend calls to alert me that she is waiting at terminal A and not at Terminal C as I had mistakenly assured her she would be landing. NO ONE MOVE! We agree to meet outside a sweet shop in terminal A .Little do I know those sweet shops are littered throughout Barcelona International. First of a series of cellular calls begin .Lee-Anne “Where you?” I reply “I’m here – outside the sweet shop”. Lee “I am outside the sweet shop” A collective UHOH! I start panicking “oh my god she’s at the wrong airport”. Sweat starts to drip– shitballs it’s 9:15pm. Fuck fuck fuckitty fuck. I will have to head all the way back through Barcelona to the other side of the city to get to Girona Airport. The she calls again to inform me she is in Terminal A definitely BCN Airport. I stand in Terminal A and cannot for the life of me see a bloody sweet shop. Oh god! I am sure she’s at Girona and someone gave her faulty information. So I do a redundant walk all the way to Terminal B to feel as if I am accomplishing something…
Eventually I say “ok listen I am walking towards Terminal A again you leave Terminal A we are bound to see each other if you are in fact at the correct airport?” Lee-Anne shrieks “of course I am at right airport”. Lo and behold the two of us imbeciles talking on the phone, looking I imagine like special needs candidates, finally spot each other. Cue the romantic run through the airport music– must have looked like a lesbian romance movie come to life. Dumb and dumber- Out the closet and lost in an airport.
Turns out Terminal A was in fact much bigger than I remembered and Lee Anne had been there all along I had just forgotten to walk behind the elevators where indeed A extended into a world of sweet shops and the actual arrivals section. Whoops, my bad.