Our family did not joke around with vacations. Over the years, we had an eclectic mix of adventures (one of the many bi-products of having parents who are artists). When my friends were heading to the Jersey Shore or Disney World, we took off to St. Johns, Newfoundland to go whale-watching or to trace our family history in Brixham, England (plenty of stories to come about these National Lampoon-style family vacations).When I was studying abroad in Madrid, my brother gave me the best birthday gift I've ever recieved - a week-long trip to Germany. This time is was just the two of us - no strict itineraries to follow, no wake-up calls, just a couple of guidebooks and some pre-set hotel reservations.
Craig was planning to fly into Madrid in the afternoon, and we'd leave for Munich bright and early the next morning. "So when you get here, we'll just go out to dinner and get a good night's sleep before we fly. My friends are going out, but I don't think that's a good idea for us," I warned him.
Famous last words. At 5 a.m., he approaches me at the dance club and tells me, "Okay, it's time to go!"
The guy I'm talking to turns and asks him, "Oh, where are you going?"
"Germany."
We ran out of the club and flagged separate taxis. Craig rushed back to his hotel on Gran Via and completed the fastest check-out in the history of the property, practically throwing his room key across the desk - while I flew back to my Senora's apartment, grabbed my bags, took a seat on the park bench outside her building and waited for my brother to arrive. Suddenly, a yellow taxi came to a screeching halt in front of me and Craig jumped out of the car, and practically threw both me and my bag into the vehicle. We sped towards the airport, holding our breath as the sun rose outside.
The ticket agent asked if we spoke Spanish. I nodded vigorously and she told me with wide eyes, "Your plane is boarding in 15 minutes." We grabbed our bags and sprinted across the airport towards security.
[to be continued...]
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