My six friends and I were scattered through the crowded train.  I could see Y’s foot tapping impatiently as the train paused for too long at a station.  If all trains stayed on schedule, we would have only 5 minutes to get off this train, race through the Chamartin train station to another terminal, go through additional security, scan our tickets, and board the next train for Segovia.  Five minutes would be a rush, but we could do it… if this train arrived at Chamartin on time.

Drowning out the Spanish conversations, I casually listened as English-speakers discussed their summer plans.  This was our first weekend of “freedom” from some of the strictest COVID regulations, and the people of Madrid were taking full advantage of the opportunity to leave the providence.  A crackling voice made an indecipherable announcement on the intercom, and the train continued crawling toward the Chamartin station.

As we traveled closer to the center of Madrid, the crackly announcement became more frequent, but no one could comprehend it. We pulled into another station and stopped.  And stayed stopped. 

We were only 3 stops from Chamartin, but a security guard entered the train and told us that the train would not be continuing. We would need to switch to another line to continue our journey. We scurried off our train and to the other line, only to see the train for Chamartin pulling away.

We did eventually make it to the Chamartin station, and we were able to change our tickets for Segovia. We arrived about an hour later than we had hoped, but the day was still picturesque. We enjoyed every minute.