My mom didn’t go on vacation until she was 18 years old. Since she couldn’t travel much in her own childhood, my mom took every opportunity to take me to new places. I’m so grateful for her doing that. During our trips, we made so many amazing memories; however, there’s always one disastrous story that makes us laugh so hard that we end up crying when we talk about it.
A few years ago, we took a trip to Europe. Our first stop was in Barcelona, Spain. After 10 hours on the plane, we finally arrived. My mom successfully navigated us to our hotel and checked us in. Right as she did this, she turned to me and said, “Are you ready to head out on a tour?” I looked at her dumbfounded. I had been on the longest plane ride of my life and was ready to sleep. How was she refreshed and ready to explore the city? My mother has and always will be able to run laps around me, and this day was no different. We were going on that tour.
We found our way outside of the hotel and onto a “Hop On, Hop Off” tour bus. My mom absolutely loves the architectural projects of Antoni Gaudí, so she picked a tour that centered around some of his most famous works, like the iconic La Sagrada Família.
When the tour ended, things started to go south. The bus didn’t let us off at the place we were picked up. I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the heat disorienting us, but we realized we could not find our way to the hotel. We couldn’t even identify the street signs that Google Maps was desperately trying to tell us were there. We walked in circles for another hour as we tried to get ourselves in the right direction.
By this point, my mom was convinced that Google Maps was wrong, I was convinced she was wrong, and the locals that could hear us arguing were convinced we were a pair of extremely lost tourists. We retraced our steps back to where the bus originally dropped us off and restarted the navigation. By some miracle, we were able to find our way back. Never had I been so happy to walk through those doors.
Like I mentioned earlier, my mother can run laps around me. So, while I was going to nap, she was pulling out her laptop to work. At some point, while I was dozing off, she asked me where the outlet adapter was. I mumbled to her that it was in my backpack and begrudgingly sat up to see if she found it. The moment played in slow motion as I watched the plug of the adapter go into the wall, saw a small electrical spark emit where the outlet was, watched the lights within the room flicker and go out, heard my mom scream and then pull the plug. My mom held up the adapter like it could explode at any moment. I was very awake by this point. She started to go downstairs to tell the hotel staff what had happened. I decided to head down with her.
We stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. I looked up to see that, as we were descending from floor two to floor one, the elevator stopped. The doors didn’t open. I pressed the open-door button, and nothing happened. I frantically hit it again. The button didn’t even light up. Both of us were starting to worry. At this point, after dealing with getting lost, the bad adapter and now the elevator, I think my mom was ready to call it quits and head back to Florida. It was as if there was a giant magnet trying to pull us home. She started exasperatedly hitting the emergency button.
I was coping with the idea that my years would be lived out in the hotel elevator when the heavy metal doors opened. The hotel concierge was standing in front of them. Our savior! I was so grateful to know I would be getting out that it took everything in me not to run up and hug him. The elevator had failed to reach the last foot of descent it needed to get to the first floor. It was incredibly ironic that it was a measly foot of distance that kept the doors from automatically opening. The concierge kindly helped us step down and out of the elevator. It seemed that everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.
We decided to get dinner at a place the concierge recommended and left for the evening. The stress of the day was starting to wear off. My mom had a paper map to carry, the same hotel concierge had sent someone to fix the outlet and I had taken a vow to take the stairs for the rest of the trip.
After dinner, right as I was crawling into bed, I heard my mom rustling through her bag. She couldn’t find her debit card. It had felt like some power in the universe was just begging us to go home. That night, we searched through every bag, every suitcase, every pocket and every corner of the hotel room. It was gone. My mom and I planned to retrace our steps to the restaurant to look for the card in the morning.
The morning came, and we started getting ready for a day that we thought would be filled with more problems. As I went to put my camera in my backpack, I felt plastic. It was like a beacon of hope. I couldn’t believe it: the card.
Suddenly, the sky was bluer, the sun was brighter and we were ready to make the most of our Barcelona adventure. The trip was looking up, and we felt invincible.
That day was crazy, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not only does it make a hilarious story to tell, but I learned an important lesson from it. Sometimes, things will go wrong. In fact, many things will go wrong. While life isn’t as silly as getting lost on the streets of a new city or getting momentarily stuck in an elevator that is only a foot off the ground, you can handle it. Life throws you so many curveballs, but you can make it through and even have a laugh about it.
So, if you’re like me and you’re still a little afraid of elevators, I give you the advice to take them. The challenges you face in this world will be so frightening now, but you’ll learn so much from them and be stronger afterward. Happy traveling!
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