Highlights-Valencia to Málaga
My bag was searched for a non-existent battery. Aircraft boarding is probably the most stressful part of flying for me because the overhead bins fill up quickly (always pay for priority). Security screening is too variable to get excited about. The Tim Hortons croissant in Valencia was execrable (at least the line was shorter than Starbucks). The people at Starbucks must have known about the croissants! The apartment in Málaga was in the historic area (not on the “edge” like Valencia). There were two bars in the tiny alley below the balcony. Why do drunk guys always sing so loudly? The management company that owns the apartment thoughtfully provided earplugs.
What Are These People Doing?
How long does it take to get a train ticket? And why am I always behind these people?
Notable Items
At the Valencia airport, the security agent opened my bag after X-ray because I hadn’t removed all electronic devices. Seriously? When did they start enforcing that? I already had the iPad and MacBook out. I removed the 360-degree camera (forgot about that, honest!). Then she said I had a battery in the main bag. No, I didn’t (it was in a side bag, but she couldn’t see it, and I wasn’t going to volunteer this). Perhaps I should have confessed because the “removal of internals” followed.
At the Málaga airport, I marveled at an older man desperately in need of a style consultant. He was nonchalantly walking around wearing a bucket hat with its chin cord pulled tight. That doesn’t look good at a windy beach, but at least there’s a reason for wearing one there. But in an airport? I wondered, was this man always dweeby (like since high school) or did he just age into it?
At the Málaga airport Cercanías station, I was stuck behind two people who seemed to be using the ticket machines to re-plan the D-Day invasion (I’ll show Eisenhower!). How long does it take to buy a single ticket into town? When it finally became my turn, ticket purchase was cut off at the knees by the “Your card has the wrong core” error. What? I sheepishly slunk to the I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing penalty box. The agent explained that my “Renfe & tú” (Renfe and you) card really should have been called “Renfe & tú, but only in Valencia.”