Spain

Friday March 5

Leave  Stag Country for JFK airport, Men’s Ensemble sings for random people. Carole Ann braids hair. Board plane to Viva La Musica alla Glee Club. Freak out b/c we were finally on the way.

Saturday March 6

Promptly inform everyone I could find that the next day was my birthday. Walk around the city when we get there (Sevilla) only to find nothing celebratory open. Chill in the hotel bar. Countdown, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! Go to bed.

Sunday, March 7, The Twentieth Anniversary of the Day of My Birth

Cantor Mass, pat self on back because I understand the Spanish and exactly what is going on, yay Catholicism and your unchanging rituals no matter where you are in the world. Tour Sevilla, the Alcazar (fortress), and Cathedral. Climb bell tower (37 flights of ramps) take about four pictures, realize the giant bells overhead are due to go off in five minutes upon the change of the hour and RUN down said 37 flights of ramps. Head back to hotel by back route and see the real heart of the city. Have birthday dinner with an amazing group of friends and AWESOME waiters who get a serious kick out of us Americans and give us birthday cupitos. Assemble Glee Club and take over Big Ben Bar for Birthday.

Monday, March 8

Drive to Cordoba. Sit with Ralphie, the best friend of all time and have a blast listening to Julie Andrews and the Princess Diaries together. Cross ancient and still functioning Roman Bridge to reach hotel directly across the street from the Mesquita (Mosque). Walk around, buy things, have great dinner, decide to go to be early only to have Chris Jones not allow such an action.

Tuesday, March 9

Tour Mesquita (awesome) and synagogue. Shop. Have concert for five people in a freezing former church. Sing solo, could’ve been better but whatever it was in English, they didn’t know what I was saying anyway. Go to Flamenco dancing. Get free sangiria by showing legs. Go clubbing which for the Spanish equals salsa dancing. Have blast. Walk home with a Polish chick and French dude studying abroad there. They try to make fools out of dumb Americans. We (not being dumb) do not let them, and become friends.

Wednesday, March 10

Drive to Madrid. Nearly choke to death on prosciutto and have to Heimlich myself because people around me are unobservant and useless in a crisis. Engage in siesta when hotel is reached.

Thursday, March 11

Tour Prado Museum, take illegal pictures, bahaha! Tour Royal Palace, sing in courtyard. Desire to live in Royal Palace provided they install heat. Assemble Glee Club and take over a bar. Large group disperses except for a small intimate group. Meet Sergents (?) of the Spanish Army. They “want to kees”. Yell “NIEN!” assertively like we did to the gypsies who tried to rob Ashley, only to find they have robbed Chris. Let Chris (innocently, no worries) sleep in my room because his room key was in his wallet. Slip him 20 euro while he is not looking. Pretend to be shocked when he finds it.

Friday, March 12

Walk around Plaza del Sol. Shop. Find a matador. Eat great food. Have concert for less than eight people. Discover there is no electricity in this church so sing everything a capella. DOMINATE solo. Go out for farewell dinner and last hurrah.

Saturday, March 13, The Number One Worst Day of My Life

Get up, get on bus, go to airport. Discover suitcase is over. throw extra clothes on and souvenirs in Peter Lyons’ carry on. Get ticket. Discover some people from the group are on stand by. Help Glee Club explain to the airport that they cannot split up a group. Have a smooth flight back to NY until we reach NY. Hit massive turbulence. Become nauseous which does not usually happen to me. Pilot tries to land in JFK. Fails. Takes off again and flies to Boston. Complain that he should have flown instead to Newark or Stewart or some other closer/NY airport. Cling to Chris Jones because sitting is uncomfortable but my legs are shaking too much to support my weight. Land in Boston. Discover all other flights on the face of the earth have had this same idea and sit on the runway waiting for a gait for six hours. Finally disembark after much drama. Go through customs. Wait in baggage claim for two hours for our luggage. Discover my declaration card has not been stamped, and go through customs AGAIN. Ride a bus for four hours back to campus. Total hours awake: 26.

Trip rating: 8 out of 10. I love traveling!!!!

Advertisements

About Miss Rosemary

is a recent college graduate from NY hoping to complete her novel of ten years. Stop by her blog, Miss Rosemary's Novel Ideas at http://missrosemary.net or contact her at MissRosemarysNovelIdeas@gmail.com with comments, questions and suggestions. She'd love to hear from you! View all posts by Miss Rosemary

3 responses to “Spain

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: