When we left PA, there was snow in the ground; the 3-hour drive to VA was equally squally. It was cold and miserable.We left Washington Dulles Airport (IAD) about 2o minutes late, and as soon as we got in the plane, the Iberian Stewardess Police made sure we knew who's boss. No going to the bathroom while on the ground, no drinking alcohol you bought from the duty free, no free magazines (like Time, Newsweek, etc), no personal movie screens.
The plane was old and dirty, and the Spanish flight attendants didn't hide their disdain for non-Spanish speaking passengers and only chatted with fellow Spaniards. This poor guy we met in the plane bought a 17-year old bottle of Scotch from the duty free and to celebrate his first vacation in a long time, opened the bottle and poured a shot. Immediately, 3 Spanish babushkas congregated around him and threatened to take away the $75 liquor, it was like The Spanish Inquisition. (Incidentally, our flight attendant looked uncanningly like Martina Navratilova... )
Dinner was not served until almost 10pm EST; poor coach passengers like us got a choice between mystery beef and mystery chicken, neither of which was any good. OK, at least they served wine with the food, but that wasn't all that good either.
(Mystery chicken and mystery beef dinner)
Thanks to some alcohol, dramamine, and some vicodin cough syrup, the flight was mercifully almost over in no time. Breakfast was served, but like dinner, it was better left untouched.
We landed at Barrajas with plenty of time to get to our Barcelona connecting flight. This was when the tale of the 17-year old Scotch took a bizarre turn. We and our new friend went through another security check on our way to the new gate, and the Barrajas police insisted that New Guy's alcohol was not permitted inside because it was not bought in Europe and it (far) exceeded the allowable liquid on carry-ons. We tried to explain that it was from a duty-free shop in the US, it never left the airport in Barrajas, we were technically only passing through on our way to our final destination. Nope, rules are rules regardless of the circumstances and in front of us, the Barrajas Nazi threw away the still-full $75 bottle of 17-year old Scotch into the trash bin. Que horror!!! At least someone should have taken a swig from it, maybe it would have loosened their tight ass!
Not feeling the Spanish love, we ambled to our gate with about 1,000 people in line ahead of us. I bought a bottle of Sangria (and an Iberico chorizo) at the duty free. With our expectations already low, we boarded our plane, which was surprisingly clean, new, and nice. The flight attendants were equally friendly (and way hotter than the US leg!) and one of them actually gave me her email (for something that she asked me to look for back in the States).
But at least it was sunny and perfect in Barcelona, unlike cold and snowy PA. Now we're
feeling the love again...
New Guy shared a cab with us from the airport to the hotel, and we had a pleasant conversation with the cab driver (from Galicia). In fairness though, C's Spanish seemed to improve as soon as she landed on Iberian soil, while New Guy was happy to practice his French and K spoke in the language of vino, as she is fond of Albariño wines from Galicia.
We landed at Barrajas with plenty of time to get to our Barcelona connecting flight. This was when the tale of the 17-year old Scotch took a bizarre turn. We and our new friend went through another security check on our way to the new gate, and the Barrajas police insisted that New Guy's alcohol was not permitted inside because it was not bought in Europe and it (far) exceeded the allowable liquid on carry-ons. We tried to explain that it was from a duty-free shop in the US, it never left the airport in Barrajas, we were technically only passing through on our way to our final destination. Nope, rules are rules regardless of the circumstances and in front of us, the Barrajas Nazi threw away the still-full $75 bottle of 17-year old Scotch into the trash bin. Que horror!!! At least someone should have taken a swig from it, maybe it would have loosened their tight ass!
Not feeling the Spanish love, we ambled to our gate with about 1,000 people in line ahead of us. I bought a bottle of Sangria (and an Iberico chorizo) at the duty free. With our expectations already low, we boarded our plane, which was surprisingly clean, new, and nice. The flight attendants were equally friendly (and way hotter than the US leg!) and one of them actually gave me her email (for something that she asked me to look for back in the States).
But at least it was sunny and perfect in Barcelona, unlike cold and snowy PA. Now we're
feeling the love again...New Guy shared a cab with us from the airport to the hotel, and we had a pleasant conversation with the cab driver (from Galicia). In fairness though, C's Spanish seemed to improve as soon as she landed on Iberian soil, while New Guy was happy to practice his French and K spoke in the language of vino, as she is fond of Albariño wines from Galicia.
The hotel is nice and super hip; we have internet access and it's a few blocks away from Plaza de Cataluña and a really big El Corte Ingles.
The food and sangria were awesome... but the problem with ordering tapas is that before you know it, you've already run a tab of over 55 Euros! But it was all worth it.
(1) Patatas Bravas Con Aioli & Bombes (2)"Bikini" (toasted jamon y queso) (3) Jamon Iberico Croquetas
(4) Arroz Negro con Sepia (Black rice with cuttlefish) (5) Chocolat sorbet with salt, olive oil and crusty bread (6) Crema Catalana
No comments:
Post a Comment