welcome to madrid

oh... dear... god... where the hell am i?

rewind. back to the airport.
1. st. louis. check bags. target: 50 pounds. actual: 47 pounds. niiiice.

2. fly to chicago. sit next to a man with one of those electronic book things from amazon. which he went on to explain how awesome they were to me. he is an aircraft manufacturer? maintenance something? and works for a company in israel, who - he informs me - are very difficult people to work for. hey buddy, it's your job not mine. he previously lived in seattle, currently lives in new york. he pats my shoulder as i am queasy and tense during take off and landing. he has 10 minutes to run across o' hare airport to reach his flight to new york when we get to chicago. good luck with that.

3. meet andrew, student on my chicago flight also going to madrid. he says we need to go to the international terminal in o' hare, so i follow, even though i know we do not. hey, we've got 5 hours before the next flight, i'll humor the kid. so we make a complete circle and dance around o' hares and then make it back to the right gate.



ok enough with the numbering. i look around the gate, searching for potential slu madrid students. i ask to no one really but essentially anyone "is anyone leaving to study abroad in madrid?" steps up (sluggishly): jake, who was also on the chicago flight andrew and i were on. andrew and i talk to him and learn this is actually his second semester and at the madrid campus and upon receiving this piece of information, continue to aggressively interrogate him. what we find out: madrid is awesome.

yahda yahda yahda. more kids start arriving. a group of girls are sitting by and i go up and ask the question i already know the answer to. yes, they're going to madrid. introductions. small talk. i try to seek out my potential roommates. renata, a girl bubbling with excitement who thinks the cashier at the o'hare mcdonald's is joking when he says her water will cost eleven cents (the water which she later spills), says that her senora is also carmen. we hoot in excitement until we realize that we in fact do not live with the same "carmen." damn.


gate k19 is loud and crowded with madrid bound college kids. jake comments that he feels bad for anyone flying to madrid that is not apart of the slu madrid group flight. i look around the gate, "...yeah, like that asian family over there?" yeah. them. i look at my ticket and find the seat assignment. Row 14, seat G. i ask the people around me where they are assigned to sit. Everyone is sitting in rows in the late twenties. "crap, i'm sitting with the asian family." time to board.

enter plane. immediately stewardess' are speaking spanish at me. any hope i had of myself being eased into this, gone. ....hola? i work towards my seat, which already has a passenger sitting in it. aww hell no. this is my parade and you're in the way. i ask -politely- if the seat she was sitting in was 14G. she says that it is. i inform her -politely- that i am sitting there. she shows me her ticket, which says "14G." ........what. i find a spainsh stewardess. help. i look at jake and he says that the same thing happened to him. we both flew from st. louis..... connection? i wonder if andrew has the same problem. about five minuntes later, we are seated. i am not sitting close to anyone i had just befriended, but i am also not sitting with the asian family. nyquil, ipod, interesting meals (should have taken a picture), too intimidated to even try to speak spanish to the stewardess' (even when they ask me "chicken or beef" and i "quiero el pollo por favor"), sleep, sweat my ass off on the plane because i wore 8 eight layers of clothes that wouldn't fit in my suit case.

arrive madrid.

follow the crowd through customs and baggage. slu madrid people help us get cabs. still no roommates found. i get in the taxi alone. before the taxi even leaves the airport he pulls over and searches my senora's address in his book. which he can't find. he doesn't know where i live. he talks to me in spanish and signs with his hands. ....what? "no hablo espanol" so he gets out and talks with other taxi drivers. and none of them know where i live either. does this place exist? i get kicked out of my taxi and go back inside the airport hoping slu people are still there. they are. and find a taxi with gps who can locate my address. ......ok.

in the taxi. silence. am talk station is on. not that i can understand it. i sneeze. he mumbles something. when we finally get off the highway and into the city i finally get the balls to speak. "hablas ingles?" "que?" screw it. "do you speak english?" "only a little but not very much." well.... ok.

i try to look for street signs and see none. how does he know where the hell he is? how will i know where the hell i am? then i notice tiny signs posted on the building street corners. holy.... can he read those? the area we drive through is very urban; dirty, small streets, tall buildings, graffiti....no one smiling. i'm not really sure what i was expecting? maybe sombreros and pinatas everywhere? we get to my street. i tip him a euro even though the slu madrid people at the airport told us not to tip. i just thought... well, out of about 20 cabs, he's the only one that could take me home. keep the change, you filthy animal. don't spoil your dinner. he thanks me, unloads my bags, and leaves.

i look at the door to the apartment building, pray my roommates are already here, hold my breath, and press the buzzer to my senora's apartment.

"hola?"

"carmen?"