When we purchased our airline tickets we figured we were in trouble. After all, they were hundreds of dollars less than the closest competition. But hundreds of dollars will buy “tons of tapas in Spain,” we said. So we gritted our teeth and went with the cheap seats. It’s only a ten-hour flight, we thought. We can do it.
We apologize, Condor Airlines. Your plane was new, the cabin attendants were hunky (to use Louise’s term – they were all men), the food was free (two meals!), you offered free beer and wine, you got us to Barcelona on time, and you were priced $165 less than the cheapest competition.
Yes, we’re in Spain, in a hotel in Barcelona for Easter night, where we collapsed in bed the moment we arrived. Somewhat recovered from jet lag now, we’re about to stroll Las Ramblas in pursuit of the infamous Spanish 9:00 PM dinner.
(Photo: The interior of our Condor 767. Sunshine streaming through the windows reflects off passengers’ clothing, coloring the walls with Easter-egg pastels.)