It got us.
I dodged it three times before it grounded me, and we were so sure we would manage to again. When we left for the 2+ hour drive, we had begun to hear about airport closures, but Malaga was still open, so we took that chance.
Our flight was delayed 2 hours.
Then we boarded. Sat for over an hour.
Deboarded for an hour.
We had to wait and figure out if it was worth it to go into the city... as they were talking about reopening at 2 am (by this point we had been at the airport for almost 8 hours). And we were not alone.
After sitting around for a few hours, we decided to go get something to eat in Malaga, and then come back and sleep for a few hours in the airport, before our flight was to leave at 5am.
And of course when we got there, we kicked ourselves for not going sooner.
The city was beautiful, and had this wonderful energy. It was nearly midnight when we were got there, and there were still people eating outside all along the streets.
When we returned to the airport, we found an open circle of tables and chairs and booths (which were already taken). We settled ourselves in with the rest of the stranded, grabbing spots on the floor, and rows of barely padded wooden chairs, and tried to get some sleep. It was hideously uncomfortable for everyone. But we managed a couple of hours at least.
The flight back to Girona (an hour outside of Barcelona) was nearly empty, but there was certainly a sense of community (even though i couldn't understand anything anyone was saying).
Getting back to Kelly and Pablo's apartment, and my little mattress on their living room floor, was heaven.
Unfortunately by that point I only had something like 3 days left in Barcelona (I'm sad just thinking about it...) so we couldn't sleep the day away, but after what felt like the best shower in the universe, we gathered our strength, and explored.
The last installment will be next...