Denver to Las Palmas, 05/06/2017

I'm sitting in the British Airways Business Class lounge waiting to be called for my flight from Denver to London, then London to Madrid, and finally Madrid to Gran Canaria. I have this overwhelming urge to get up and run out! All I can think is that I'm not supposed to be doing this, I look around and I don't belong here with these people. Too rich for my blood. I try breathing in and out slowly, because I think it may just be an anxiety attack. That helps.

They call my flight, there's no turning back now I guess. I board.

I cannot sleep for the nine hour flight to London, even though my seat is a flat bed to sleep on, I toss and turn and get up and walk every hour. Next thing I know the lights are on, it is morning and we are landing in London in one hour.

Onto Madrid, which by the way is a beautiful airport. I hang out in the Iberia Air Business Class lounge. Maybe I do belong here after all!

We board for Las Palmas, the planes keep getting smaller. This flight is three hours and now I am tired. When the plane lands it is 11 pm their time (actually it is 23 pm, they use military time here) I get off the plane and head towards International Arrivals. Some kind people on my plane wave me back to go through Local Arrivals. Since the Canary Islands are part of Spain it is considered a Local Arrival. No Customs agents to be found! Nor anybody to help haul my four suitcases. However, the first Canarian security guard I see tells me I can go "outside" and find my taxi driver to come back in and help. My new employer, Kinross, has instructed me prior to only take the taxi with the person holding up the sign with my name! So sure enough I go outside and there stands Juan with my name on a piece of paper. We load the bags and off we go. As an aside, can anyone imagine any airport in the world that would let you go outside and find your taxi? So far so good!

I ask to sit in the front seat with the windows down so I can take in the sea air! I can't see anything other than a harbor and city lights but I sure can smell the beautiful sea air. Juan is wonderful and tells me all about being a Canarian and how proud he is of his country.

He hauls my bags up to the guest house (apartment) and I tear each suitcase open, one in each room, trying to find stuff for tomorrow. I have to be at the office at 11.


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