The Pain in Spain Has Driven Her Insane

Donna and Val have finally arrived, 18 hours later than originally planned...

...and a lot dirtier.

For those of you who are unaware, here's a brief recap of her Journey to Barce-HELL-ona:

• A worldwide disruption to the British Air check in system sets her initial flight out of San Diego back four hours.  This is what we in "the biz" call a "vagaster."

• Upon arriving in London for their layover, Donna and Val are told that they have missed their connection (unsurprising, since they were FOUR. HOURS. LATE.)  They are given a hotel for the night. They are not given their luggage.  "It will take hours to find.  Pip, Pip!" the British air rep was quoted as saying.

• Donna and Val sleep for approximately 30 seconds, before getting up and heading back to Heathrow.   They have to put back on the same clothing they've been wearing since San Diego.  They may need to book extra seats for the clothes.

• Donna tries to re-book the car that was supposed to pick them up when they landed in Barcelona.  Donna is told no car will be waiting for her when she arrives.  She did not ask for a reason, for she has given up.

• A full 18 hours after their scheduled arrival time, Donna and Val land in Barcelona.  Donna's luggage, however, is still traveling.  She is told that it will be arriving on a flight that lands in 3 hours.  11 hours later, it still has not shown up.

That sign says "SKUNKFUNK."  And so does Donna.

• We drink about it...

...and I begin to draw stink-lines all over her photos:

Donna:  Deliriously happy...or just delirious?  

• She sobs and asks why I am tormenting her.  I tell her it's because her tears are all she has left to wash her smelly face with.  And then I laugh and laugh.

• She and I walk around for a while, exploring the city.  Well, I was exploring the city; she was stinking up the joint.  Donna begins to limp because the shoes she wore were great for sitting on a plane...but not so much for the walking, as it turns out.  Here's a picture of what they don't look like:

Her real shoes are in her luggage.  Probably somewhere near the Dharma hatch.

• We try to get back to the hotel, but the pedestrian bridge is closed.  We have to go a million miles out of the way to go back.  Donna is leaving a trail of blood wherever we roam.

• Donna would like to shower and burn the clothes she's been wearing for more than 70 hours.  But she has nothing else to wear.  She borrows a t-shirt from me.  

• Donna also borrows a pair of underwear from me, because we have no boundaries.   Or shame, apparently. Now we are both perishing.  Photos of this will not be included in the blog...

...well, except for that one.  

But as always food is the solution to all the traumas.  So we went to a lovely tapas place, which was not called this:

...and ordered the world:

We ate our faces off and had some wine and now it's time for sleep, since tomorrow is now officially Donna's only full day in Barcelona.  

And we have some drinking to do.

***UPDATE:  Donna's luggage arrived @ 1AM.  A full 11 hours after she did--and a full 29 hours after it was supposed to.  Good job, team! 

Hopefully she'll keep my underwear.