A ridiculous beginning to a hopefully excellent adventure

DISCLAIMER: I would have posted this at the time it was written (yesterday? two days ago? I’m not even sure anymore…), but alas I had no internet. So please humor me and read this as if it were a live post.

I’m feeling pretty miserable during my 5 hour layover at the Dallas-Fortworth airport. I’m popping these mini Reese’s cups into mi boca so casually and coolly as if they’re a prescription medication I need to get me through the day, which honestly isn’t so inaccurate.

I had a pretty terrible night last night, which is what’s making a peanut butter-chocolate combo so essential. Allow me to set the stage:

Classically enough, my friends and I visited Shari’s diner last night for milkshakes and fries, upon my request for one last American meal. We got there, ate, left, they wished me safe travels, and we went our separate ways. My luggage at home still needed some final tending to, and so I tended. After about an hour I finished up and was about to fall away into my sea of a bed. All evening I couldn’t wait to get a delicious night’s sleep in preparation for my 24 hours of travel. Hasta pronto, España.

But, as I should’ve expected, my slightly obsessive (but also very wonderful!!) mother had me triple check that I had all of the really essential essentials before I could enjoy myself. I begrudgingly obliged.

Passport? Yup–I pointed to the dark blue booklet.

Phone? Yup.

Wallet? Yup.

When she asked of the whereabouts of the latter two, I came to the heart-stopping, gut-wrenching realization that I did not know. After ripping apart the house with no avail, the only remaining explanation was that I messed up as badly as anyone could and left my phone and wallet at Shari’s.

I scream-cried as I drove to Shari’s, and scream-cried even harder on the way back after receiving a disappointing (to say the least) answer from the manager. I now had no money, no phone, and no form of ID other than my sacred passport. Fjsdjflkskfjdl.

My night consisted of being screamed at and feeling pretty sure I was soon to be murdered. Eventually, though, my parents and I all calmed down and we began to proceed rationally. We canceled all my cards and did our best to concoct a backup plan. Ultimately, this new plan consisted of using the hard-earned contents of my savings account as my spending money in Europe. That is, once my new debit card arrived in the mail, and once my mom sent it to me and it arrived in Spain. The phone situation remained pretty unresolved–I could never make up for losing a brand new iPhone. I would have to get a new phone once I got to Spain. This plan was far from ideal, but it was all we had. 2 AM rolled around and we finally went to bed, emotionally exhausted.

I lay in my bed doing my best not to loathe myself. As a coping method, I tried to rationalize the situation. I guess I could carry around my passport at all times for my primary ID… I guess.

Obviously not. Out of bed I rose to look for my expired drivers permit, which I thought was quite a brilliant idea. I found it, returned to my bed, and saw something on the floor wedged between my lamp and pillow–something that absolutely could not be. But if it was, I had no choice but to accept that my life is a complete joke, for the universe had just played a cruel and unusual prank on me. I moved the pillow aside to make sure–indeed, my life is a joke.

All night I had been sobbing and begging for forgiveness, and all the while my wristlet wallet with a shiny iPhone inside had been upstairs, in my room, maniacally chuckling to itself. My mouth was literally agape with true and utter astonishment.

By the time I found my wallet, it was 3 in the morning, which meant I had one hour until I had to leave to the airport. I did not get a lick of sleep. So here I am, in Dallas, Texas, exhausted beyond all belief, still astounded at my night’s conclusion, eating Reese’s cups like they’re my lifeline. I do not care.

I still have about 3 hours until my plane boards, so maybe this is just the exhausted waiting around talking, but I am extremely excited and not the slightest big nervous to get to Spain. I’ve been petrified with fear for months, but I’m really not anymore. My eyes feel heavy so this entry needs to end. Buen viaje to myself, woohoo.


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