Well, I think this might finally be the end of a frustrating episode. The flexibility of having no plans also breeds rushed and incomplete planning… I’m not convinced that the dichotomy is an intrinsic one, but rather just my lack of forward thinking. Since I realized that I would have to take the transit to meet my deadline I’ve been looking at my options. I spent the better part of yesterday trying to get out of Madrid and failed miserably.

So far I’ve been successful with medium distance busses and trains in between smaller cities and didn’t have to modify anything except “cover” my bike - in reality, I just hastily threw my 30L rain cover over the handlebars. 

Last night was different, as we were boarding I was told that the bike had to be disassembled and put in a bag. The bus was already running late and couldn’t wait for me to make my adjustments. As the driver stepped into the bus to leave a woman who was in distress wanted off and the driver had to escort her and her luggage out of the terminal. I’m not sure the nature of the emergency, but I took the opportunity to quickly disassemble and pack my bike down and wrap it all in my tarp. I I was actually quite proud of what I had thrown together so quickly. The bus driver sat down once more and buckled his seatbelt. Through the windshield I motioned to him my wrapped up bike and he gave me one last chance. The luggage door opened and there was what seemed like the perfect spot for my ugly parcel. I thanked the driver profusely and confidently went about inching the bike into its resting place. 

Fuck! The rear rack was just 2 inches too tall, I backed the bike out and flipped it and tried again. Damn. 

Not to worry, I knew what needed to be done, I just had to turn one bag onto its side. The driver though, didn’t see what I saw, he was at the end of his rope; I had blown it, I begged for one more try, but I had already spent it. He closed the compartment and my heart sank once again; although courteous, he refused my pleas, and drove off. The last thing he said - translated through a generous english-speaking passenger, was that there is another bus in an hour and maybe I could try to catch that one.  

Fitting luggage and other objects neatly into small spaces like real-world Tetris is something of a patriarchal trade craft handed down to me from my father, and to him from his, presumably for many generations. In fact I think it’s so pervasive in Japanese culture that it’s one of the significant features of contemporary Japanism. Needless to say, I have a lot of pride in being a practitioner of this art form, and my devastating failure during the critical time of need was a blow I’m doubtful that I can ever recover from.

The driver for the 1am bus refused to let me on, and told me to buy another ticket - they were sold out till the next evening. I should mention here, that my usual calm nature was pushed to its limits, I wanted to throw a fit, break or punch something, I wanted someone to know I was sorely pissed off! I held it together okay, but I was boiling and it probably showed. Later, yelling down the empty street helped a little. 

I measured my packed bike and realized it was just barely within the speck for AVE. I rebuilt my bike and peddled back to the train terminal, where I had already spent a significant part of the day walking my bike up and down escalators, and standing in que trying to tease out information from the help centres. AVE the high-speed train took only 3.5 hours to Barcelona from Madrid but also had a couple of hurdles. Allegedly, they confiscated all sharp objects and knifes were limited to 6cm blades - I had 3 all of them over, the second was that bikes had to be packed into bike bags - for me a ridiculous extra cost.

The earliest train was 6:30 and the terminal opened at 5. So, I followed the example of the homeless and took advantage of the large terminal ceiling above the parking lot and lay down on the foamy for a rough sleep, my umbrella shading my face from the bright lights.

Up at 5, I rushed to buy an early ticket only to realize it was double the cost of a later one, and with the booth charging an additional 3.5% I bought my 11:30 ticket online. Still dark out and nothing open I found another patch of concrete across from the terminal to grab a couple more hours of Z’s. By 8:30 it was fully light out and I lay there under my tarp as people bustled past. A neatly folded tarp was what gave me a the fleeting feeling dignity, but with the wind trying to tear it off me, again I gave in and fully opened and wrapped it tightly around me. 

Unfortunately, in my situation, McDonald’s and other fast food franchises are hard to beat. Warmth, bathroom, drinking water, cheap food, decent coffee, wifi, and I can charge my phone. All this with minimal baggage of overstaying one’s welcome.  

Following the advice of the bike shop I found a large plastic bag to put my bike into and used my tarp to cover the rest. At boarding, they were not pleased with my bike situation but still let me on. Carrying the bike and bags was a workout. My plan to lay my knives in the bag in such a way the x-ray would find it hard to distinguish worked. I pocketed the other one.

I can rest for now, but I’m sure this won’t be the last time I have to jump through similar hoops. From Barcelona though, I plan to ride to Constance with the possibility of taking another train. French trains are supposed to be more accommodating…. I sure hope so anyway.