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I am in Madrid. Maybe you will ask yourself why on Earth I find myself in the capital of Spain, when my intended destination was supposed to be Atlanta. Two words: SNOW APOCALYPSE. It seems that the Apocalypse has arrived to the South, and is not in form of four riders, tis in the form of small, fluffy, my dearest friends, snow flakes.

At 7 AM yesterday, I checked Delta webpage once again. The flight was cancelled, AGAIN! THE FOURTH FREAKING ONE IN LESS THAT TWO DAYS!

At first I laughed, then I cried, then I punched the pillows with the higher amount of force my body is capable of, until my limbs went numb because of the effort. I went to White Plains airport and explained my situation( once again), and requested to get a refund from the ticket, if you are imagining the lady laughing at my face, you are absolutely correct. I believe I have not experienced  so much vibrating rage in my entire life, not even when I was a toddler and my mum grounded me without chocolate for a week.

She gave me  a number, that I had tried to call at least a million times in the past few days, and nobody answers it, NEVER. I told her that I wanted to go back to Spain, and ask her for a voucher to go to JFK, she laughed again. So I spent 129 $ in a taxi(plus the money spent in both hotels) to go from this airport in the middle of snowed nowhere to Marilyn´s friend airport. When I arrived there, I had to wait another 1 hour queue and pour my life to another unfriendly guy. I told him I wanted to have my money back, he told me to call that number again. I told him that nobody answers, ever; so finally he talked to someone in the phone for 3o minutes, and I got a refund, that is not even the half of what the ticket costed. Another thing to add to my ” I am Carmen, and I hate Delta” list, and another point for the complaint in the making. Then I went to baggage claim. There were seven employes. None of them were working, they were chatting and took them at least 10 minutes to gather the assassin gaze I was inflicting upon them , I asked the lady why my luggage was on that plane if I was not in it, and she told me, exact words ” I have no idea, I don´t deal with that” (you see how well prepared she was for that position). After reporting her my story once again ( I feel like one of those people who go to a sensationalist tv programme, to tell that he have not talk to his friend for years, and then, totally unexpected because it have not been done a thousand times, the friend appears,  music flows, and then they hug. And I ask myself, could you not just pick a phone and call him?) my luggage that is supposed to be in Atlanta´s airport will be sent in theory to m dorm.

So here I am, in Madrid, waiting for the snow to go and eat a Kit-Kat or something so, I can get back to the Peach.

PS: My sister is writing a book about this, is called TERMINAL 3: THE RETURN.

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