Chris' Arrival

In all fairness, I have to say that he gave me fair warning that it would happen. He told me that a trans-Atlantic flight without a cigarette would be a bear and to expect him to not be in a good mood when he got off the plane.

Young adults in their early 20s stay out all night drinking on weekends, not going home until daybreak, which it’s known in Spain as “la marcha”. I got up early and took the first metro train on Saturday morning to the airport. Key point in that sentence is that I took the FIRST metro train out of the station at Puerta del Sol, because the station was filled with nothing but young adults who had been out all night, and were waiting for the first metro train of the morning to take them home. Some laughing, some staggering, some sitting with their heads cradled in their hands, they were 80-90% guys and 10-20% girls. I don’t think I realized until that moment, how old I am.

I got to the airport at seven o’clock and scurried over to the international terminal to pick up Chris. His was the first of 231 international flights coming into Madrid on Saturday. Relieved when I saw “en tierra” (landed) on the schedule board at 7:19 AM, his flight was exactly one minute early. I waited, then a second flight landed from Filadelfia. I waited, and finally he made it through customs about eight o’clock, and into the airport where I was waiting.

“I can’t believe what a stupid airport this is we must have taxied for twenty minutes before we got to our gate and I wasn’t able to sleep at all on the plane either and my iPod fell under my seat because they have this stupid gap between the seat and back and I couldn’t listen to my music the whole flight, then we had to walk forever down hallways, up and down stairs, and they didn’t have any escalators and when I got to the luggage claim, it took them thirty minutes to start the luggage carousel, and even then the bags came out so slowly, one bag at a time, then the customs agent didn’t even look at my declarations sheet, I mean, what did I even fill out the form for? and there was nowhere to stop and take a smoke along the way”, he said, as he walked right past me toward the exit.

Once outside, he lit a cigarette and sucked it down like a kid drinking a thick milkshake through a straw (Ooo. That sounded kinda Hemingwayesque ... and right here in España!). He lit up another and said “it is so fuckin’ cold here! why did you say that this airport had such a great design?, this just looks like an old American airport to me ...”. “International flights come into the old terminal. Would you like to see the new Terminal 4?”. “No, I just want to go”. After a while, enough nicotine had hit his brain that he calmed down, we said hello, and then began to make our way “home”.

I had reserved a hotel for four days to ease him into life in Madrid. He slept the morning and part of the afternoon and we went to a bar on the roof of Óscar Hotel in the Chueca district. It is a rooftop terrace with swimming pool, big white canvas umbrellas, white chairs and chaise lounges, and the whole rooftop is glassed-in for the panoramic view and to keep the heat in. Outside was right about freezing, but with heaters up there, it was comfortable. They did a very good job of capturing the essence of Miami Beach in the heart of Madrid. We sat there for a couple of hours and had drinks while Chris “detoxed”. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera with me until later. That evening we found a great little restaurant for dinner, and agreed that we’d go back there soon.

This morning Chris was still recovering from his flight, but we finally went out in the afternoon to see the “Palacio Real” (Royal Palace) of Spain. Chris has never been to Europe and so I thought that seeing a royal palace would be a good introduction. Unfortunately, photos inside are prohibited, so I was only able to snap some pictures of the exterior.

Afterward, we stopped in to a bar on the way back to the hotel and had a few drinks. Chris is sleeping again, but we’ll go out for dinner in a few minutes ...