Tip: this is NOT how to travel to an orange country
So off we went. Everything prepared. At least, that's what I thought. Antigen test done for the outbound journey, PCR for the return journey which would then be valid for exactly 72 hours, my vaccination certificate converted into the QR code and oh yes, that health declaration could also be filled out at the airport. That's what the gentleman from Foreign Affairs told me because yes, I had called him too.
Well, that declaration (really, if you're going to Spain, please fill out that list the night before at home and not, I repeat: NOT in line at the check-in counter) turned out to be a marriage between Kafka and Jiskefet. It was that we were about to miss our flight, otherwise I would have been in stitches. No one could help us because no professor understood the list. Anyway, in the end, we found the leak. My middle name was listed as my last name on my ‘antigen diploma’ and my last name was forgotten by the doctor. No match, in short.
So I called the doctor who thankfully answered. In the stress, I called him Jurriaan while his name is Patrick, but so be it. Nitpicker. I rattled him out of his Sunday morning groggy bed (it was 07:15, SORRY) and then a new form was presented. Meanwhile, the steward at the check-in counter had forced us to choose in a Sophie’s Choice manner. Because our partners Ine and Pleun had cracked the QR code by now. “You have to choose,” they said with trembling lips and I once again knew what I already knew: real friends. Period.
So they went. With broken hearts. We headed towards the Privium Lounge where I had pulled my pass from under the dust (hadn't used it in a year, fun right, corona). There we stepped from hell into heaven. A sweet, smart girl who had delved into that Spanish list, who brought us coffee and a croissant and advised me to first change my ticket because that list asks for a seat.
Enjoyed the coffee for a moment, wiped away a tear. Then to the KLM counter where we (love for KLM, it should be said) were rebooked free of charge to a flight two hours later and also got a lovely seat. Then we settled back at Privium where my girl (she is really ready for high school) filled out that entire list. Because disadvantages and advantages are an inseparable combination, we now had time for Starbucks and it rarely tasted this good. In Barcelona, our friends were waiting on the rooftop and the worst-case scenario shifted to the folder ‘good story’.
