getting out of Madrid

We get up bright and early to get started on getting to the airport,

and it’s a mess right from the very beginning.  We head out in good fashion, but can’t seem to find the stop for the airport shuttle and find several different ones that we think could be it and spend a lot of time walking around the Plaze de Cibeles.  John looks like a 

 chicken with his head cut off here and when we do find the right stop, there is a sign on it saying that it’s going to be closed for the hours that we need it and the police are cordoning off the street around us.  A man who seems to know what he is talking about and 

kind of flashes a badge on his belt says that it will come, but the sign and the man that runs the taxis says that it won’t.  The man with the taxis is hoping to make us panic and almost succeeds before the bus pulls up and we load on.  Now, this was easier before because the

  front of the stroller was not weighed down with all the stuff that we didn’t pack in the suitcases because we don’t have to fly.  Now, when the bus stops or starts, the whole stroller wants to turn over with Oscar in it.  He doesn’t have the weight to counter our dirty clothes and groceries that are now on the back.  The bus driver is suicidal or homicidal and we tear around curves like the airport might leave before we get there.  This is a full bus and suitcases are rolling around, people are falling around and we’re packed in like sardines and standing.  But not John, I’m rolling around on the floor of the bus, while John sits in a seat talking with his male students who also got seats.  Some total 

stranger overs me his seat on the bus because I have a baby, but my own husband doesn’t think twice about me.  I have to stay standing though in order to keep Oscar from tumping over repeatedly.  Again, not used to being the last in a long list of people that John is thinking about.  We finally come to a 

 screeching halt at terminal one where everyone makes a mad dash for the doors around us because we’re on until terminal 4.  John hasn’t been thinking about this, so Rachel and I had to confirm this already and let him know to stay on the bus and it’s a good thing because Madrid’s terminal 4 is about a 

two mile drive from the other terminals.  We finally fall off at Terminal 4 and head up their cool escalators without stairs so you can bring your luggage and into the Iberian lines which there are about a hundred of.  Once they see the group, they send them to other lines and other lines and we don’t really get to say goodbye to the students, Oscar and me, because we’re stuck with the luggage.  John and Rachel see the students off into security and make sure that everyone is checked in before we try to go rent our car and Rachel goes off for food.  She’s staying in Madrid with her brother and they’re going to Toledo, while we rent a car and most likely get into trouble going to Portugal.  John has to hit a new country on one of these trips and that’s getting harder and harder to do.  The ipad maps the route for us and we avoid any major highway problems getting around and out of Madrid.  I’m driving a stick shift for the first time in years, so my main concern was not stalling out in the parking garage with the attendant right there.  Oscar is getting to ride in a front facing carseat because the Spanish attendant wanted to argue with us that he was too large for a rear facing seat, so we resolve to not get in any wrecks while we’re here.