Ugly cry at the airport

I'm bawling minutes before I leave the country of morocco. Not out of happiness or sadness. Not out of relief. My beloved British charged me 54 euro for a piece of paper and I simply lost it.

I had to change my original plans. I was supposed to meet up julie and her family in granada 2 days ago. But after the accident there was no way I was leaving the comfort of the hotel. There was no way I was going to take a two hour taxi to a two hour ferry to a four hour train ride. Healthy lacy would have been miserable. Accident lacy. No way.  I needed to rest. I needed to recuperate.

I had all but admitted defeat. My mom asked if I wanted to go home and I thought about it. But I also knew julie was depending on me in madrid. Unlike in granada she had no family there and without me she would have been all alone. So I looked up tickets first to granada and then to madrid. Pure luck showed me a $60 ticket on ryan air from tangier to madrid. Once I knew for sure I would continue on, I booked it and went on my merry way.

We left around 730 this morning and I didn't think to check in. It just didn't dawn on me  I fly 3-6 times a year and rarely do I remember to check in unless I'm on Southwest. And even then I rarely remember. After dropping off my companions at the port I was dropped off at the airport 30 minutes before the recommended 2 hours. The check in was not even open yet so I was told to wait by a man in plain clothes.

The desk finally opens and the plain clothes man helps me with my stuff. They ask me for my boarding pass. I nonchalantly say I didn't get one. They tell me it will be 540mad or about 54 dollars to get a boarding pass.

"FOR A PIECE OF PAPER?" I demand.  The people behind the desk are obviously used to this and are ready with their retorts. "It's the system, you should know to check in."  But I didn't get an email and I told him so.  He maintains I should have known. I then ask about the luggage. They tell me that it's 60 euro to check it. While I can walk well enough I'm not sure I have the strength to carry the 11kg bag I have with me. I'm furious but they have no power they claim.

I'm sent over to the "ticket counter" which is a small booth with a 8x11 logo print out of each airline that flies through this airport and a woman. I hand her the stuff. She asks me for 54 euro. I tell her it's ridiculous, extortion even.  She also tells me I should have known. I even show her the email and she said the part where it says "don't forget to check in" with a more details link is where it is all spelled out. C'mon that's insane.

I feel cheated.  I feel ripped off. I'm so angry. My voice gets loud as I'm talking with her. She seems sympathetic but "it's the system" she says. If I had just been here 10 minutes sooner the system would have been open still. "BUT I WAS HERE. RIGHT OVER THERE. ASK THIS MAN. HE TOLD ME TO SIT AND WAIT."  I then complain that on top of this I have to pay the price of my ticket for my luggage. And then I surprise myself and the woman and burst into tears, big ugly cry tears right in the middle of a public lobby. I know it's not her fault. I know it's not his fault.

She calls her manager. They can give me free luggage but cannot trip the system. I continue to cry. At this point I don't know I can be stopped. Another man comes up.  I let him go. He also has to pay the 54 euro.  I start to calm down and realize that the next flight offered was $212 on the same route with such short notice. I'm still ahead. And if I get over the idea that I'm paying $54 for a piece of paper and just imagine my flight cost $120 I may be able to stomach it.

She comes back to me and calls her in her office. She tells me she can help me pay but not all of it. I said not from your own money. She said yes. I cry all over again. This time due to the kindness of this woman. She asks me to stop. Through sobs I say thank you. I hand her my credit card and say I cannot take her money but that I will complain to ryanair and likely not fly again.

This whole time I have had to go to the bathroom. And when I finally get to one, I find that I have a visitor. Aunt Flo made her appearance, likely at the very moment I went from screaming to bursting into tears.