A.k.a., the trip home.
Imagine you're in a U.S. airport post-9/11. Someone activates a portable siren, while others around him blow police whistles and throw papers in the air. Now ask yourself how long it would take TSA agents to swarm, beat and shoot this group of people: 5 seconds? Maybe 10?
Amazingly, people in Spain are allowed to walk around the airport in this way for hours unmolested. In this, the country that suffered its own mini-9/11, it's apparently fine that gangs of people are actively trying to cause a panic in an international airport.
And that was just one of the many surreal travel experiences we encountered on the way home from what might have been the greatest wedding ever.
The aforementioned return trip began at 3:30 a.m. when we had to grab a taxi in San Sebastian for the 70+ minute trip to Bilbao. This travel interlude was the result of poor advance planning and late travel arrangements on our part. Still, the ride went well, and we actually made it to the airport before it opened, which at first seemed like a mistake, until we realized the flight on our ticket didn't actually exist at this airport.
After surviving both the re-ticketing process and the disgruntled and be-whistled janitorial staff above, we found ourselves in Frankfurt having to, again, rectify incorrect tickets. Dodging both long lines and insane American tourists, we were soon on the trans-Atlantic flight home. And speaking of insane tourists, Mark was stuck next to the proverbial 450-lb. elephant until an accommodating stewardess got him a better seat. This begs the question: If I'm dinged for the size of my carry-ons, why wasn't this guy dinged for the size of himself?
It's just amazing that anyone ever survives international travel, given the sheer number of things that can and usually do go wrong. But we did, and here we are.
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