My thoughts on my latest trip will be a bit disorganized and random over the next month or so. I’ll probably start at the back of the trip, Malaga, Spain, rather than the front, Rome. There’s really no rhyme or reason for it, other than the latter part is fresher in my mind. I’ll start first by complaining about flying overseas, but I’ll try to keep it short.

I used to like flying. That faded in the last ten years to preferring it for speed. After my last couple of trips, I’d have to say it’s squeezed down to “only when absolutely necessary.” The seats are smaller and closer together (I actually checked. Newer planes took out a bathroom and squeezed seats closer so that there are now two extra rows of seats). The service is far, far worse. The delays, the lines, the security…all of it adds up to a nightmare.

On the way back from Malaga, Spain, we had to go through security in three different airports–every time we made a connection. Our connection times were short, usually around an hour to an hour and a half. If mom hadn’t been in a wheelchair and received priority consideration, we would not have made any of our connections.

I’m sure you’re wondering WHY we had to go through three times. I was wondering the same thing. Well, here’s the drill, as I understand it. You go through at your normal check-in spot. Then, if you fly a regional airline, such as SpanAir, to a major airport, you leave the regional area and go to the international area. This requires not only checking in at the larger international hub (in our case with Delta), it also requires going back through security. With a bit of a language barrier and unfamiliarity with the Barcelona airport…I think we’d still be in Barcelona if not for mom and her wheelchair guide. Nightmare doesn’t quite capture the size of the airport, the flashing lights, the different language, the LINES, the sheer confusion.

Just as a side piece of info, SpanAir does not serve any kind of free drink or snack. Sodas/coffee start at about 2 euros ($3.00 or so US). But don’t take water on the plane unless you can find a place to dump it–because the next security checkpoint will have a fit if you have a water bottle.

On to the next connection. When you land in the US, this is considered your entry port. It requires leaving the plane and going through customs. Then you must collect your checked luggage (regardless of your final destination. This is your port of entry so you collect your luggage, go through immigration and recheck your luggage). Immigration is really customs, but a different name and a different line. Once you have completed the immigration check and rechecked your luggage, you have scant minutes to catch your connecting flight. You get to security…where there are many lines merging, chaos, and the usual screaming.

If you make it through that, you’re allowed to hunt down your connecting flight. If you make your flight, you’ll scamper on the plane…and if you’re flying Delta, you’ll probably find out that the flight is delayed. You get to sit on the tarmac for a while. In my case, it was only half an hour. In the case of my parents, they were delayed closer to two hours.

That, my friends, is what it is like to fly internationally. The actual flying was boring, just the way it should be. It was also incredibly long (10 hours) but we did bring our own food so we didn’t starve. I may never leave my arm chair again.